Bound By The Blade

Shade I’ve seen him before. My gaze automatically tracks his movements the moment he crosses the threshold of the tavern. Honestly, I keep an eye out for him whenever I venture into this part of the continent. He’s known to travel these towns and villages and markets, his Kingdom's sacred tenet moving him from place to place. For years, he poked in and out of the taverns and inns nestled between the overgrown, spiny forests and rocky cliff sides. He towed around a younger version of himself, the young man always eating and complaining, with him everywhere. I didn't know if he belonged to him by blood or birth, though; it didn’t really matter anymore. Recently, he started traveling alone. A gust of air knocks the door to Irin’s Tavern against its hinges and the place seems to shiver together with it. It’s a relatively spacious building kept warm by the central fireplace smoldering with low light. It does just enough to ward off the bite of the chill. The raging ocean to the north spews its frigid winds well into these lands, keeping most away. Those that stay, have to. Irin’s Tavern folds around me like a well worn cloak, the atmosphere stained with a permanent layer of smoke. Haze lingers above the patrons around the bar and in the back between spread out booths. Lanterns of flame and magic hang in seemingly random nooks and crannies in the open room. The oblong bar near the front keeps the noisy visitors separated from the warmth of the leather booths. A brick fireplace struggles to radiate and reach every corner, though it tries. Shadows from the fire and moving people dance among the furniture and space, weaving an intricate path. I can't help but watch them, following their contrast about the room. I cram myself onto the edge of an otherwise empty booth facing the front door as people start to notice he’s entered too. There is no rear exit, I know this, still it feels wrong to leave my back exposed to the other five booths behind me. This area of Irin’s Tavern holds only a handful of other guests, some human and others far from it. They sit in groups of two or three, chatting and drinking among themselves in the dim light. I glance at the drink in front of me, a misshapen mug handmade and worn from use, while he strides through the crowd in the front and past the fireplace. His broad frame and height forces others out of the way without second thought. They part for him like a school of fish does a shark. As my glass raises up, the edge of my hood falls back enough to catch him stride past my table. The drink is warm and I grimace when it goes down with a bitter aftertaste. The man moves with a fluid grace despite the heavy leather and armor covering his body. The rounded helmet he wears is etched in the Kahrdem runes of his homeland and he keeps the faceplate down. Two long slits for the eyes and a series of circles under give way to only black behind the helmet. Fear, cold and gripping, slithers over my skin and settles in my spine as he takes a seat in the farthest booth behind me. His back directly against the wall and I picture the way he spreads out his limbs and settles into the cracked brown leather. A soft purple lantern sparks over his booth and would wash his polished leather and metal with its hue. It’s a sight I’ve seen before. His usual seat in the back shrouded in the shadows and low violet light. I don’t need to look to know how he takes up the entirety of his side of the booth. His silver armor and brown leather clothing blend into the cushions as if he’s meant to sit and watch the rest of the room there. My body stays facing forward. I can’t give away my true intentions. I take another sip from my crooked mug and try to relax my posture to look natural. Just a woman getting a drink by herself in the dark of night, that’s all. Right. The low ceiling overhead seems to grow smaller with every drink and I finish the glass with a violent gulp. Wiping my mouth with the back of my gloved hand, I move my fingers over my cheek and up to my left ear. My left side is completely hidden from view of the booth behind me and I rub the ruby earring lodged through my skin. Warm and tingling magic spills from the piece of jewelry in a soft humming sensation. The silver holding the gem heats and a buzzing begins for my ears alone. I tap the stone another time and pull my hand away, settling back into the cushions and trying to relax as magic tugs on my bones. My hands clench in my lap as the slithering tendrils of the spell connect and I hear an overlapping relay of the tavern sounds. There’s nothing else to pick up yet, the man is a silent statue waiting for Irin to join him. Irin, the ‘Lord’ of Nevkin, owned every business and non residential building in this town. Nevkin Township did alright for itself, tucked deep into the Frygyn Woods. A well traveled stop for those passing through and a meeting place for those looking for work. A certain and specific type of work. The kind of jobs and employment that may otherwise be seen as disgraceful or ‘dark’. Sometimes gray in the eyes of the law and sometimes black; including everything between. Mercenary’s, bounty hunters, thieves, smugglers, assassins, middle men and more find themselves in this feeble town some way or another. And, I would bet a hefty bag of coin, they would meet Irin Welsh during their stay. A businessman, he called himself. What exactly the business entailed, well that’s murky and private. I know from experience that fate tugged all wayward souls into this tavern when in desperate need of coin. Like some kind of spell that draws us here. I’m sure the man behind me could attest the same though I wouldn't ask to hear the story. The man, still silent and brooding, continues to wait for the tavern owner as more people notice he’s in the building. Soft murmurs rise from the mingling crowd up front, whispers and glances into the dark to catch sight of him. He goes by ‘Kahr’, a short name for what his people are called; The Kahrdemin. His people cover their faces, fully or partially, outside their Kingdom in a sign of loyalty to their tenet. Their god Ardem is one of vengeance and retribution. The covering is a reminder to the rest of the world that they would not forget the atrocities their people once faced. Kahr takes his vow a step further and hides his true name from being known. It isn’t as strange as others made it seem. Going by an alias has its benefits. The wooden door at the front gets thrown aside as Irin steps through the frame with a wide grin I can see even from here. The man wraps himself in furs of white and gray and walks with a slight gait from a decade old injury. His hair fades in shades of gray and brown, starting to resemble his furs the older he gets, and his face holds deep set lines. He bellows with laughter to the front crowd as he shuts the door and shakes off the cold. His dark skin looks reddened from the winds and he trembles lightly in his wide boots. Irin shakes a few hands and gives passing words before wading to the back of his establishment. He doesn't acknowledge my form sitting in the booth, my dark hood concealing my face and tied back hair. He knows, I’m sure, though he likes to see where things went before he spoiled them. That’s fine with me. Perfect, actually. The earring increases in heat as sound filters into my ear from the booth, Irin takes the seat across from Kahr with soft noises. The older man grunts as he finally gets into a comfortable position and I roll my eyes at the scene he needs to make just to sit down. He really isn’t getting that old, though he swore he is, and he took advantage of anyone thinking that. Better to have an enemy believe you’re weak than durable. Kahr waits for Irin to speak and the creeping awkwardness between them is felt through the magic pulsing in my veins. It tugs from underneath their table where I placed the other half of the earring pair only hours before. Ever since Kahr began showing up without his kid he’s felt colder, more hostile and unpredictable. His normal routine of collecting jobs and hunting the monsters that lurked the forest turned into more nefarious lines of work. The same line of work I happen to excel in. “The crew agreed to bring you in for this job.” Irin announces, finally breaking the tension that built in the air between them. Kahr must nod, I can’t tell with my back to him. My spine starts an itching sensation between my shoulders and magic warms my hands as they wring together in my lap. I play with the ends of my gloves while I listen to the men speaking. “They don’t normally like to take on outsiders with such short notice.” Irin pauses and I can picture the sly smile he gives as he chuckles, “The coin is too good to pass up though.” He’s right, it is. The crew he spoke of is the one I joined just shy of a year ago. A small group of three and this ‘agreement’ to let Kahr in happened behind my back. Well, apparently, an answer was needed before they could find me to ask. So they say. I would have been wary of any newcomer, they know that. The Kahrdemin warriors that traveled outside their kingdom are known for their skills in fighting and tracking. Their expertise in weaponry and magic made them sought after despite their often brunt and standoffish personalities. My father warned me of the Karhdemin warriors and the lengths they would go for their Kingdom and for their vengeance. The fear slithering through the layers of my clothes and into my skin came from his teachings and cautions. Never underestimate them. They will make an enemy far greater than any you will face. His words whisper in my head and I take a deep breath to push them away. The drink relaxes my shoulders and makes my stomach radiate a low warmth as the air in the tavern starts to feel stale. “Anything I should know about them before?” Kahr asks, voice rich and deep, the earring heats from my thoughts. I slow my mind and close my eyes. The magic continues to pulse and claw at me despite my efforts to smother it’s growing ache. “Well, that depends on what you want to know, Kahr.” Irin practically purrs the words as a barmaid brushes past my table with a tray of odd mugs towards them. I feel the vibration of her steps over the dusty floor. Then her stammering voice breaks through the feed of the earring for a brief moment before she scurries away. Her steps are faster on her retreat to put distance between herself and Kahr. “I know the job, went over the details you left me earlier. But the crew, who are they?” The Kahrdemin inquiries, his tone cold and calculating. Irin takes a swig of his drink with a satisfied sound and the table creaks with his weight, “They’re no one really, like everyone in Nevkin. No one you know and they like to keep it that way.” They did and still do, I think annoyingly to myself. The magic is starting to burn into my flesh, my hands getting the brunt of it while my earlobe throbs. “That’s nothing.” Irin chuckles to himself like Kahr just told a joke, my eyes can't help the roll they do despite being closed. I focus on the sounds of their voices instead of the washed out background, it helps clear my mind and strain. “They’re my shadows, under the table so to speak. One’s a smuggler, a half ogre with a sharp eye and aim.” That would be Pik, more stoic than sharp in my opinion, “One’s a thief, a bit odd but don’t let that fool you, he’ll put you on your back before you can blink.” And that’s Curlen, a real pain in the rear side with a stick up his own to match. They aren’t horrible company to be around, despite their faults. The two men are family bound though share no blood and were a team before Irin introduced me. They accepted me in and proved to be men of their word, for the most part. It also helped male clients take me more seriously when I have male partners to back me up and glower at my side. Que another eye roll. “And the third?” Kahr asks and I can't help but go still in the booth. My body locks up tight and I tremble as the magic working through me grinds into my bones. “A shadow through and through that one. My blade for hire with weapons made of darkness itself.” My blood roars in my ears alongside their conversation. “Darkness?” He asks as I lick my drying lips and lean my head forward so the hood hides me even further. Everything in my being is screaming at me to run, now. Get away before he can find out the faults in my own armor and power. Before he can kill me. “Magic, of course, you’ll see.” Irin says and I’m thankful he didn't say more. I don’t need the Kahrdemin to know all the tricks up my sleeve. I’m still extremely wary of the idea of working with him. Especially for the length of this job and the ever present warnings of my father. The secrets that follow me like a shadow will certainly get me in trouble. Instinct tells me to slip into the night and drop the job. Stubbornness keeps me here. That and, well, the copious amount of coin. Kahr seems to take the answers given and Irin continues on with a hurried pace after taking another sip of his drink, “You’ll leave with them tomorrow morning, a short trip to the Pel Keep, and there you will be given rooms for the entirety of your stay.” The itch in my spine grows and gnaws at me. It’s like he’s drilling holes into my back though I can't see if he is even looking this way. My eyes open and I inhale sharp and achingly. I’ll need to drop the magic soon before it blisters my skin. The spell is simple enough but holding it for long periods of time burns through my magic like a wildfire. “For two months, right?” Irin likely nods and sets his drink on the table making a thump among the overlapping noise, “Correct, it’s for a sort of friend, acquaintance, of mine as he entertains guests. He has a guard in place already and more on the way.” He pauses, “But he needed something sharper than the average knight.” Something deadlier, I think to myself. The silence between them stretches till my skin starts to feel raw, the fabric of my gloves digging in uncomfortably, “No questions asked?” Kahr asks and there's a slight edge of excitement to his voice. A small thrill that seems to zap through my body as he speaks. The old Kahr toting around a whiny brat wouldn't have taken the risk of the job. Wouldn't have endangered himself or the young man in this way. Now his anticipation pulses in my veins with its strength, my magic picking up his emotion along with his voice. “Exactly. Keep the host alive and survive the two months.” Irin replies and then calls out for a nearby barmaid to refill his glass. “Simple.” In my experience, it’s hardly ever simple with Irin. Their conversation is over, the gesture of the tavern owner settling back and cracking his knuckles means he’s done speaking shop. I slump in relief and quickly snake my arm up to hit the hot gemstone in my ear. The magic breaks with a snap and I breathe harshly through my nose to settle the static inside as my power balances once more. The air around me cools instantly the moment the spell ends and I can feel the beads of sweat now rolling down my face and neck from the earlier strain. My hands are tight and throbbing in my lap. I turn deeper into my booth, rubbing into my covered palms to stop the ache as Kahr gets up from his seat. I don’t need to see it happen, I can feel the energy of the room shift as he walks. They’re all afraid of him. Keeping him in their line of sight for their own protection as much as it is to gossip and watch in interest. The whispers start up again, joining the haze above moving through the room. Seven long heartbeats later and I feel a looming presence at my back. A shadow falls over my table and darkens my small bubble of privacy. My breath picks up and I inhale a scent of steel and blood that wafts off the Karhdemin like an extra layer of armor. It can't be. It is. Slowly I rotate my body just enough to tilt my head under my hood in an acknowledgment of his appearance. Holy frost, is he really this tall? “I think this is yours.” Deep and velvet smooth, his voice travels down my neck and into my stomach. He lifts a covered hand closed in a fist, slowly, over my wooden table and opens his fingers, palm facing down. Something small and shiny falls to the surface and rolls towards me. I shoot out a hand to stop it from going off the edge. My fingers jump from the heat radiating off the tiny thing. I freeze, it’s my other earring, the one that I hid under his usual table. My heart hammers into my chest as the hair on my arms rises from his nearness. I can’t look up, I can’t do a single thing but stare at the red and silver item in front of me. Time feels as if it's crawling by while I sit dumbfounded. How did he know? How did he know? Before I can say anything at all; he leaves. Cloak billowing behind him as he stomps out of the tavern. I exhale sharply. The sound is hoarse and shaky as it wheezes out of me. My body trembles in a mix of fear and shock and adrenaline surging together. The call of my magic is a pulsing aura around me and I shove it back down, no longer in need of it. I do need another drink though and I signal that to the woman rushing by. Fixing my hood and making sure my hair is completely hidden, I’m glad for the concealment of it and my face. He likely won’t recognize me when he joins the crew in the morning. Yeah right. I tell myself that's the truth over and over again as a plump gray haired woman sets another peculiar mug in front of me. She gives a quick grin before bustling away. My pulse begins to quiet halfway through the second drink while the crowd grows and the air starts to feel sticky. Irin continues to laugh and mingle with the crowd as he leisurely strolls around the room, never acknowledging my sulking form. Soon I’ll have to turn in and try to get as much sleep as I can before the departure to the Pel Keep. The four of us traveling through the forest can make it well into tomorrow’s nightfall. I shiver thinking about it. I could leave, but I really, really, need the coin. My luck is at a low point and my father would scold me for working with the Kahrdemin. His caution is a poison in my veins and I feel my pockets for the coin to pay for my drinks. My hand touches a small pouch that gets lighter and lighter each day. I take it out and inspect my measly wealth, barely enough to pay for tonight. Frost, I have no other choice but to see this through. I sigh and gulp the rest of the sour and tangy mix of liquid down. The morning will be interesting.