The Tale of Onora

Something Dark at Work-1

SOMETHING DARK AT WORK

IT WAS A CRISP autumn day. Oranges, yellows, and reds burned on the foliage as they departed their limbs like children leaving home for good. They sailed on the breeze from as high up as the eye could see, falling from the towering timbers like little specks of snowflakes drifting in carefree spirals. Some landed on rope bridges and rooftops, hardly making it halfway through their hopeful descent to the earth. Others gathered on porches and windowsills. Those that made it down landed on grassy knolls and dirt paths. Some stuck their claim on wooden crates and sat on barrels while others landed in fountains and streams, turning themselves into tiny vessels that journeyed on the gloomy surface of the water.

It was the time of day when people lit their lanterns and hearths, knowing that the quiet darkness of night would soon fall. The windowpanes glowed with golden light as the black crosses of their framework divided them and fractured the light’s glow. Some forest folk finished their chores outside, in front of their homes; yard work, feeding animals and such.

Those who finished their workday flocked to the tavern, lads and lasses alike. Some skipped in groups and jested with each other, others strolled confidently by themselves, dressed proper for an evening of celebration. Ellia tried to appreciate the blissful ignorance of Amori Village as though she may never see it this way again. None of them knew about the lokithor and only a few of them knew of Aithein’s summons. She saw Loff’ta waddling up the steps of the tavern before disappearing through the swinging doors and into the bustle.

The innkeeper appeared from within and opened the tavern’s windows. She latched the entrance doors as wide as they would go, flooding the village with a festive melody that started with a gentle harp and violin, perfectly in balance. As it progressed, flutes and fiddles accompanied the melody into a more upbeat tempo, helping it soar to new heights. By the time it climaxed, the wonderful notes from a concertina drove the chorus as the beat of the frame drums transformed the song into a valiant anthem of triumph. The patrons and bards sang wildly together, harmonizing their pride along with their heritage.

Traders packed their wares in the village square and gathered their belongings for the long trek home. A couple Amori boys helped repair the broken wheel of a mule-drawn cart for an old Caliphian man. The man had a long white beard and the robes of an alchemist. A tiny cap covered his bald crown. The back of his cart was filled with crates of potions and herbs.

“Thank ya, lads!” he said. “I be payin’ ya back with me goods!”

One of them waived the old man off. “Nonsense!”

“Just get home safe, Noldo,” the other Amori replied. “Same time next week will be our reward.”

“Too kind,” the old man replied. “Too kind ye are.”

Loff’ta reappeared from the crowd within the tavern, holding a mug of spiced ale and a bowl of pickled eggs, cabbage, and wild carrots. He gave a sloppy bow to the ladies that passed by. The wooden planks of the porch creaked as Loff’ta made his way through the crowd and found a seat. He plopped into a rocking chair and kicked his boots up on a side table. He bit into a mouthful of boiled egg. Crumbs of its yolk tumbled down the vines of his beard. He washed it down with a big swig of ale and basked in satiation.

Ellia spied Loff’ta from across the village square, but he had an eye for noticing things, and so he raised his mug to her. She grinned and shook her head, then waved back. Good ole Loff’ta. Hopefully he was near completion on Aithein’s set of armor.

The ever-present golden haze of the forest seemed thin this evening, like the day after a rain when the chilly air chases away the moisture. Ellia stared up at the ceiling of the forest, wondering if she was seeing things. Perhaps it was her imagination, but she swore there was a powder blue light trying to break through the misty haze she’d known all her time here.

The orbs of aether, the tiny life forms that glowed and clustered in the stillness of the forest and maintained its health, seemed scarce this day, concernedly so. The morning had started off normal enough, but now it felt like the eve of a holiday, as though the entire world anticipated the fabled arrival of a storied character. It was an exciting but somehow ominous feeling that burnished the surroundings.

The wintry air frosted Ellia’s nostrils and bit the walls of her lungs. It seemed that Dusktide could hardly wait to declare its arrival as the first whole month of harvest season. A shiver caused her to cross her arms and tuck her hands.

“Oi!” Loff’ta called from the tavern’s deck. “Wha’re ye wait’n for, Ellia, the sky to turn blue?” He choked on the delight of his occult joke. “Come ‘ave a drink!”

Ellia wasn’t amused by the mockery. She moseyed over to the tavern and ascended the steps.

Loff’ta pulled aside a chair for her. “’Ere ye go, lass. How ‘bout somethin’ to warm that belly o’ yours?”

“What have you got in mind?” Ellia asked.

“Ha! The bloody best!” Loff’ta winked at her and leaned in. “The music might be soon to stop, but right now it be a’roaring, an’ I aim to be a’soaring!” He bared his teeth. “Or maybe even a’whoring!” A wheezy chuckle showed how proud he was of that one, but off of Ellia’s unentertained stare, his smile disappeared and he cleared his throat. “D’issan!”

A plump but pretty waitress flirted with a few patrons on the other side of the deck as she took their orders. A bonnet corralled her rosy hair.

“Come on, woman!” Loff’ta yelled. “What’re ye waitin’ for, the world to end?”

“If I were so lucky!” D’issan answered. “At least then I wouldn’t have answer to your every beckon!”

“Those buggers’ll ne’er love ye much as I,” Loff’ta said. “Best not bite the hand that feeds ye, now, lest ye want it to bite back!”

D’issan smiled. “Maybe I do.”

Loff’ta’s lips scrunched together. “That’s the woman I adore.” He causally went back to eating his food, picking out a purple wild carrot and offering it to Ellia. “That one’ll be as sweet as candy, lass.”

Ellia popped the carrot into her mouth and was pleasantly surprised. For all the yapping Loff’ta does, he seemed to know what he was talking about.

D’issan tried to keep a straight face. Say one thing about Loff’ta, it’s that he’s sincere. He might be churlish but it’s what makes him lovable. She looked at the patrons and smiled. “I’m sorry, gentlemen. I’ll be right back.”

The patrons threw their hands up and groaned.

“Where ya goin’, sweetheart?” one asked.

D’issan smiled seductively. “To feed the hand that bites me.” She walked over to Loff’ta and sat on his lap. “Well, your mug’s not empty and neither is your bowl. Wish I could say the same about your head. What do you want?”

“I din’t call ye over for me, my beauty,” Loff’ta replied. “I called ye over for her.” He pointed to Ellia.

“A younger woman, is it?” D’issan asked. “Shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Only in age, my lovely,” Loff’ta replied. He goosed her thigh affectionately.

D’issan smirked. “How are ya, Ellia?”

“Well enough, I suppose,” she replied.

“Fetch’er a mug o’ egg’n’grog, will ye?” Loff’ta ordered. “Make it the best ye e’er done! She needs it, oi, does she e’er! Ha!”

“I think I can whip up something special,” D’issan said.

“That’s me girl,” Loff’ta replied. He slapped her tush as she walked away. He turned to Ellia. “When will ye make some feller as happy as me, sweetheart? Your looks be deceiving but I know ye.”

______________________________

THE BOYS TOOK A brief respite from running. Everyone was out of breath except Aithein.

Caelwyn took out a small bottle filled with green liquid. “It seems you were built for this, Aithein.”

“Xas,” Neilath added. “You should be the one to carry Baelwyn.”

Baelwyn giggled as he used Neilath’s sheathed swords for stirrups, his arms wrapped around Neilath’s neck for a piggyback ride.

Aithein marveled at the potion. “What is that, Caelwyn?”

“This?” He uncorked the bottle and took a swig. “Stamina potion. Woo, that’s strong! Gah!” His eyes scrunched up and he stuck his tongue out between gritted teeth.

“Through pride we deceive ourselves, eh?” Taelire jested. He bent over with his hands on his knees, struggling to compose himself. “Give it here.”

Caelwyn handed him the bottle. Taelire took a swig and damn near threw up. “Ugh, what is that made of?”

Caelwyn laughed, but Taelire could feel the effects immediately. His body felt vibrant, excited to work. He stood tall as his breath and heart rate steadied. He felt as strong as an ox and as nimble as a hare. The stamina potion was one of the best things he’d ever drank.

Taelire offered it to Neilath, who was skeptical to say the least. “It was pride that changed angels into devils, wasn’t it, Neilath?”

Neilath looked at the chartreuse colored liquid sloshing around in the bottle. He reluctantly took it.

“Xas. Devils,” he said sarcastically. “Because the heavenly prison we escaped was so angelic. Nothing but divinity.”

He took a swig and unflinchingly swallowed the bitter liquid. He looked everyone in the eye and camouflaged the potions effects on him, but he undoubtedly felt better than he could ever remember. He cracked his neck to loosen up and acknowledged Baelwyn. “Phuul dos kr’athin?”

“Xas!” Baelwyn replied. “Go horsey!”

He spurred Neilath with his heels.

“Lead the way, Aithein,” Neilath said. “We’ll all have sets of scale armor by day’s end.”

______________________________

D’ISSAN STIRRED THE FROTHY mixture of eggs, milk, and sugar in a steel pot that she held over an open flame. She added vanilla, cinnamon, and clove.

“That should about do it,” she said to herself as she took the pot off the stove and set it on the counter. She eyed a private reserve of dusty crystal bottles filled with russet colored liquids. What to choose, brandy or rum? She saw one of the bottles filled with a blackish liquid. “Perfect!”

She grabbed the bottle, unscrewed its cap, and eyeballed the amount of black rum that she poured into the pot. She took a swig for herself. “Son of a w***e, that’s good!”

Next, she sprinkled nutmeg into the pot’s contents and stirred them one last time before emptying them into a silver tankard. She scooped a dollop of meringue onto the surface and then shaved chocolate curls on top of it. Her fingers wiggled in delight around the tankard as she hurried out of the cookery.

Ellia watched D’issan pop out of the tavern and onto the porch with her special delivery.

Loff’ta noticed Ellia’s wide eyes and turned to see the egg’n’grog. “Lo! That be a drink to make King Korren green with envy!”

He stuck out his finger to dip it into the meringue, but D’issan slapped it away.

“Keep your sausage fingers to yourself, old man!” she said.

Loff’ta put his hands up to show he was unarmed. “Don’t go castin’ a kitten, now!”

“This was made for Ellia,” D’issan replied. She presented the drink to her. “Here you go, darling.”

Everyone nearby watched intently as Ellia took the first sip. The creamy richness flooded her taste buds and warmed her with delight. The spiced rum gave it just the right amount of bite as it smoothly slid into her tummy. Ellia looked up at everyone. She could feel the dollop of meringue on her nose and the milk mustache on her lip. There were no words for how good it tasted. She shook her head in humble praise and smiled.

“I’ll have one if you please,” a patron said.

“Me too, please,” his friend added.

A third patron felt left out. “I want one too!”

“Wait your turn, ye cellar smellin’ bastard!” Loff’ta yelled back. He turned to D’issan. “Look what ye did, sweetie. One drink made ye renown. Make mine before theirs, my dear. And don’t be givin’ me no coffin varnish neither.”

“Fine,” D’issan replied. “But I’m charging you extra, chubby.”

“Ha!” Loff’ta responded with a confident grin. “That be a just tax then, for I be twice the man!”

“That you are, love,” D’issan said. “That you are.”

She turned to the other customers, told them that it would take time, and then strolled back into the tavern.

Loff’ta looked at Ellia. “You’ve gone quiet on me. Wha’ happened? Egg’n’grog get your tongue?”

Ellia gave a polite smile.

Loff’ta leaned back and let out a sigh.

“Take it all in, lass,” he said. “We’ve been through a lot, but nut’in like this. Sump’tin ain’t right with that faelen tree. It ‘appened so gradually that none noticed. ’Taint no excuse. We should’ve known.”

Some forest folk, merry from their spirits, took to the lawn in front of the tavern and danced with each other.

Loff’ta smiled. “Cute kids. The lad’s a dead hoofer though.”

“Loff’ta!” Ellia smacked his arm.

Loff’ta winced. “What? He be dancin’ like he’s got two left feet!”

Ellia ignored him and watched the adorable couple spin round and round in each other’s embrace. They passed through the Great Barrier long after Amori Village was established. Their sovereignty in the realm of Caliphweald had not been threatened thus far. They were so innocent, so tender. They reminded her of Aithein. Damn, how she missed him. She wondered what he was doing, if the Bannitlarn Brothers had encountered more lokithors. She wondered if he was still alive. Her stomach churned. It’d been days since they left.