Jessica Liersthe
Chapter 1 of The Seven Orbs of Ballesteros
by
Robb Farrell
Copyright © 1996
It was the only nightmare Jessica ever had.
She had just turned seven, on the first day of Summer's Harvest, the beginning of Late Summer.
Jessica and her parents, Governor and Lady Liersthe, were alone in the castle's bailey, located in the heart
of Vollmer. Dirion was bright that day and the sky was cloudless, but there weren't any shadows, for as
she remembered it the assassin moved faster than a shadow could possibly keep up.
Governor Liersthe was a man of pure formality, and was dressed to fit his station: a draping, deep red rope trimmed in golden thread and covering a bone white tunic with collar, and tan pants tucked into leather boots polished black. The signet ring of the family of Liersthe - a symbol of office passed down from generation to generation for nearly five hundred years - sparkled on his right hand, while his left held the hand of Jessica's mother, a beautiful woman dressed in a soft blue flowing gown with ruffles around a high neck and at the wrists, her belly bulging slightly with four more months yet to go. She too wore leather boots polished black, although only the tips were visible. Both mother and father were smiling down at Jessica, their eyes warm and filled with love for their only child thus far, unaware of what lurked behind them.
Jessica was in a gown cut short at her knees, white in color with a flowered patter around the waist. White stockings were pulled up past her knees and her feet were crammed into an uncomfortable pair of brown leather shoes. Her long reddish brown hair - which she got from her father - was pulled back and braided off her face, one of fairness and freckles. Her light emerald eyes - those she got from her mother - were gazing beyond her mother and father, at the dark moving figure on the wall of the castle. The dark figure shifted left and Jessica blinked, and then her mother and father were gone, as was the dark figure with no shadow.
In a flash of bright light, Jessica at age seven and her parents were replaced by Jessica at age thirty-two and her Uncle Jorge, a family outcast on her father's side who had taken the orphaned child under his wing after her parents had been murdered, and after the claim to the throne the Liersthe family had been overthrown. Uncle Jorge lived the life of the streets of Vollmer, and in the twenty-some years that he and Jessica were together, he had taught her the ways of the streets and how to survive them; of fending for one's self and of the mastery of two blade; of killing and of revenge. "A chill colder than the coldest night of Darkwinter, revenge is," he had said, his voice a distant echo. And then Uncle Jorge was gone, killed in the blink of an eye by a runaway carriage. Again, Jessica was alone, but unlike the Jessica of seven years, the Jessica of thirty-two was ready.
Another flash of bright light, and Jessica was back with her parents in the bailey of the castle, deep in the heart of Vollmer. This time, though, she was Jessica of thirty-two. Her body was well defined and curved as that of an Aarenki gladiator, her muscles corded by years of continuous swordplay with Uncle Jorge. A jacket of black leather, the sleeves cut short, covered her upper body, while a pair of black leather pants were tucked into worn leather boots. Jessica's long mane of reddish brown hair was pulled back behind her slightly tapered ears, tied off and braided, hanging down past her lower back. And the color of her eyes had changed over the years, now a deep emerald, gazing beyond her parents standing before here and at the dark figure on the wall, as she had done twenty-five years past. But this time she was looking at the dark figure through the eyes of an experienced, street-wise woman, not the eyes of an innocent child. And this time, she could see him: his clothing of black, fitting like a second layer of skin from toe to crown, and the dual crossbow he carried; his long black hair pulled tight into a ponytail; his eyes of crystal that looked almost pure white; and his smile, appearing as one of a madman, yet she knew he was not.
Jessica could see clearly as he pulled the crossbow's first trigger and then the second, sending a poisoned bolt into the back's of her mother and father. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She crossed her arms over her chest, each hand grabbing the hilt of a blade sheathed at either side, but she could not draw them. She tried to step toward the dark figure, but her feet were planted solid. And then, as the third and final flash of bright light began to engulf her, she saw the dark figure for the last time: his clothes of black and the weapon of her parent's death; his eyes of crystal white and his mad smile. And then she saw the rose, a single bud on a thornless stem, save one.
And then the flash came, and she woke.
Jessica's hand was wrapped around the hilt of her dagger, the blade unmoved from under the pillow. She turned her head to glance about the small room, the last the Inn of the Journeyman had to offer. There was no movement, no sound; only her breath, heavy and shaky. She let out a sigh and released her hold on the weapon, wiping away sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand. Jessica pulled her hand away from her face and checked it for blood, sighing again when she didn't find any. More than once Jessica had awoke from the nightmare with cuts from her dagger on her face and hands. This time, though, she was unharmed.
Jessica sat up and tossed her legs over the side of the bed, the straw mattress crunching as she did so. Her bare feet hit the wooden floor softly, the cold from the floor sending a chill from toe to tip of head. She always like that feeling and smiled as she pulled her dagger out from under the pillow and stood. There were no windows in the small room, although a small candle resting on a stool in the corner gave off enough light for Jessica to see by. She walked four steps and dropped her blade on a small table, splashing water from a bucket on her face, running wet fingers over her long reddish brown hair, her thumbs gliding over slightly tapered ears, the only visible feature that showed her elfin half. Her mother had been a halth - a half-breed or half-elf - as was her father. The difference between her two parents, though, was that her mother was half pseithen, or hill elf, coming from the city of Alejrodan where her pseithen mother had married a human noble, while Jessica's father was half fpathen, or forest elf, his mother coming from the fpathen nation of Jahhne and his father the former Governor of Vollmer. She kept this secret to herself, though, for even outcast halth would look poorly upon her if they knew her true heritage.
Droplets of wash water cascaded down her neck and over her bare chest, sending another chill racing over her, followed by a slight smile. She had bathed the night before with soaps and oils, something she hadn't done in a long time. It had cost her two silver sords for the bath and an additional three copper dagars for the scented oils, but as she sniffed at first her left armpits and then her right, Jessica knew it was well worth it.
She returned to the bed and brought out her black leather armor and soft black leather boots from under it. Jessica slipped a thin cotton tunic on first and then the black leather jacket, followed by the black pants that completed her armored set. She slipped her feet into the boots, her toes and heels falling into grooves and rubs over five years old. Jessica then reached back under the bed and pulled out a black leather belt with a sheathed long sword attached on one side and a sheathed short sword on the other. She wrapped the belt around her waste and fastened it, taking up the dagger from the small table and slipping it home in a scabbard sewn into her right boot, the hilt of the blade chiming softly as it hit the scabbard's metal. She grabbed her full pack, tossed it over her shoulder, and was out the door, only to come to an abrupt halt on the landing overlooking the main dining room of the Inn of the Journeyman.
Jessica had expected to see the orange-yellow that Dirion gave off in the early morning, shining through the many windows of the Inn, with the local fishermen of Keledon breaking their fast and enjoying mumbled conversation before heading off to the Baccala River and their nets; the scents of fresh bread and cooked ham filling the dining room; and the sounds of the trade wagons and their teams heading out of town and south toward Gideon. Instead, Jessica found the light shining through the windows anything but that from Dirion in the early morning, with the dining area void of patrons save for a single woman; sites and smells that told her she had overslept.
"Son-of-an-orcan-wench," she grumbled as she made her way down a flight of stairs leading to the dining area. The room had a clean floor of wood, stained the same light brown as the walls. Several round tabled were placed about the room, with four chairs to each table. Ten stools sat in front of the bar on the far end of the room, with a set of shelves holding dozens of empty tankards behind it. Two large kegs of ale sat on their sides, the left one dripping the golden drink at a slow pace. "Innkeeper," she said to the lone woman, recognizing her from the day prior, "what time of day is it?"
A short, chubby woman of late years with gray curled hair and dressed in a simple gown of earthen brown looked up from her needlework and smiled. "Pardon, lass?" she asked, her voice tender and soothing to most, save Jessica Liersthe.
The woman in black furrowed her brow slightly and asked again, "What time of day?"
The old woman's smile was unchanged, although even a deaf man could have heard Jessica's irritated tone. "Well past the midday meal, lass. I should say a little before dinner's time. You slept well after your bath last night, I see."
Jessica moved to a window and glanced out. The packed dirt streets of the river village Keledon were quiet, as they had been the day before when she had arrived at the Inn of the Journeyman. "What of Malachi's Invitation?" Jessica asked as her eyes fell upon The Wizard's Tavern, down at the far end of the street.
"They would have gone at first light, lass," the innkeeper replied, continuing on with her needlework. "Although I don't think they all left at once."
Jessica turned. "What do you mean?"
The old woman looked up. "A dervatear priest showed up a little while after the fishermen were done breaking their fast, asking about the Invitation. I directed him to The Wizard's Tavern down the street and told him what I just told you, that Monk would have led the group out at first light."
"Another late-comer then?" Jessica said softly.
"It isn't unheard of, though I doubt if Monk will let the short fellow join the others."
Jessica moved swiftly across the dining area and reached for the handle on the front door. "You'll never catch them," the old woman said as Jessica lifted the latch. "They're more than half a day ahead of you, lass, and you'll never make it to the entrance before nightfall."
"What of it?"
"I certainly wouldn't want to be caught up in the foothills at nightfall, not with the strange sightings we've been having as of late," she said, shivering to emphasize her point.
Jessica let the latch drop. "What strange sightings?"
"Travelers have said they've seen goblins and orcs in the Kingdom."
"There have been goblins and orcs in the Kingdom for thousands of years, woman," Jessica said. "That is nothing strange."
"But the travelers went on to say that these goblins and orcs were . . . different," said the old woman. "As though they had purpose."
"With purpose?" This was strange, Jessica had to admit, for the goblins and orcs of the Kingdom of Langington, as well as the whole of Western Glashia, were always said to live and die without purpose, least they marched toward a battle they assumed victorious. The two races were no more than beasts slightly smarter than street dogs, and were treated as such.
"Well armed and armored, I was told," the old woman added. "And with -"
"Purpose, yes," Jessica cut in. "But I haven't heard of any humanoid attacks in the Kingdom for hundred of years."
"Neither have I, lass, and that's what makes these sighting so strange."
"What makes them so strange?"
"The goblins and orcs are said to be moving in small groups," the old woman said. "Less than a score, mayhap less than ten, but definitely in small groups."
Again, strange. "It matters not," Jessica said, turning back to the door. "Humanoids or no, I must be off."
"There is always next year," the old woman said as she returned to her needlework. "Nearly two hundred years of Invitations, lass, and not a single group has made it out alive. Oh, there was that fpathen wizard, but he doesn't count."
Jessica stopped at the door again, the old woman's words sinking in slowly. "Always next year," she said softly to herself. Two years since she had left Vollmer, and two years before that Uncle Jorge was killed. Twenty-five more back and she was seven again, with her mother and father laying lifeless at her feet in the bailey of the castle. Too many years have past, she thought to herself, with Uncle Jorge's words echoing close behind, "Revenge will leave you hallow - soulless," he had said. "You'll be dead before your body has enough sense to lay down." But the reoccurring nightmare was a never-ending reminder of a pain that Jessica knew could only be stopped by the death of her parent's killer - the dark-haired man with the crystal eyes and the mad smile. "If I do nothing, the pain will destroy more than just my soul," Jessica said to herself.
"What was that, lass?" the old woman asked, her eyes fixed upon her needlework.
Jessica cleared her throat, glancing quickly at the old woman as she lifted the latch. "My journey must begin today. Now." To the old woman, Jessica knew that this meant the Invitation. But to Jessica herself, it meant the only time she has ever gone against the advice of her mentor and uncle, Jorge Liersthe; it meant the beginning of a gathering of power, the likes of which she knew she would need when the time came to confront her parent's murderer, and she knew that time would come. And the key to this power, as legend had it, could be found in the belly of Mount Gideon, upon the successful completion of Malachi's Invitation.
"If there is a god in the heavens that you believe in, lass," the old woman said with a sigh, her eyes still fixed upon her needlework, "I hope he is shining down on you this day." But Jessica was gone, the front door of the Inn of the Journeyman slowly creaking closed.
Jessica followed the main street of Keledon down until she reached The Wizard's Tavern, with the majestic browns, greens, and grays of Mount Gideon towering beyond. She took the single step leading to the tavern's front door cautiously, her right hand resting on the hilt of her long sword as her left opened the door. She stepped into a quiet foyer, with the main dining room off to her left and a closed door straight ahead. A common wooden bench resting against the wall to her right, with several pegs jutting from the wall above it. "Can I help you?" a young voice asked from inside the dining room. Jessica took two steps to the left and glanced through the doorway, her eyes falling on a boy, no more than ten years of age, sitting at one of the three round table the room had to offer, slowly slicing apples.
"I seek the Invitation," Jessica said without emotion.
The boy was simply dressed but clean; a brown wool vest was worn over a gray undershirt, the sleeves of which were cut midway up his lower arm. Jessica could see the legs of a pair of gray pants ending in a fringe, with the boy's bare feet hovering above the wooden surface of the dining room's floor. His straight, shortly cut hair matched the hazel color in his large eyes perfectly. His face was smooth and the skin taunt, even though he didn't appear to be underfed. As the boy brought the blade of his knife cleanly through the center of a large, golden apple, the sound of a juicy crunch filling the otherwise quiet room, Jessica noticed the single most distinguishing feature the young boy had: his nose was long, although not too so, and had a sharp taper about it. Almost bird like in appearance. "I'm afraid you missed them, milady," the boy said, slicing one of the halves into two pieces. "They left at first light this morning."
"And what of the dervatear priest?"
The boy sliced the other half into two, scooping up the four apples wedges and dropping them into a small bowl. "He arrived shortly after Monk and Duegan's Crew left, so I sent him up the trail. Being a dwarf and all, I was sure he would be able to catch up to the others in the mount's foothills."
"What is this Duegan's Crew you speak of?" Jessica asked, finding that the irritation she had had while conversing with the innkeeper at the Inn of the Journeyman had disappeared almost completely. She could feel herself relaxing slowly.
"It's the adventuring company made up of the seven who arrived here yesterday," the boy explained.
She cursed herself silently for wanting the bath and the quiet of the small room the night before, for if she had come to The Wizard's Tavern directly, she would be with the others, this Duegan's Crew. "Would they have reached the entrance yet?"
The boy glanced out a window and nodded his head. "Custom holds that the group enter the tunnels upon arrival."
"Would they have not camped for the night before entering?" Jessica asked, hoping that there might still be a chance she could join this Crew before they began the Invitation. "The journey up that mountain looks to be a difficult one."
The boy shook his head as he sliced a second apple in two. "The trail to the entrance is easy on the foot and not very dangerous, milady. I've ventured to the entrance to the tunnels several times myself, with gifts of homage to the grand wizard Malachi. And if I know Monk, he wouldn't have allowed the group to camp the night before entering."
"But what of the goblins and orcs the innkeeper was telling me about?"
The boy smiled, his eyes fixing on Jessica's and, for the briefest of moments, she thought she was looking at someone wiser and well beyond ten years of age. "Merrital has a way of exaggerating, milady," he said. "You shouldn't believe everything that she tells you. Besides, if Monk were to come across any trouble, I'm sure he could deal with it swiftly."
"Who is this Monk that I keep hearing about?"
The boy sliced half of the apple into two, and then the other half, dropping the four pieces into the small bowl. "Monk is many things to many people, milady," he said. "To me, he is my employer and the proprietor of The Wizard's Tavern. To Merrital, the keeper of the Inn of the Journeyman, he is a loyal nephew. And to the others of Keledon, he is other things." The boy laughed as he said, "It's kind of hard to explain who Monk is, milady."
"So it seems." Jessica moved to the table where the boy sat and pulled out the chair opposite his, dropping her pack on the wood floor as she slumped in the chair. Only moments before she had been in a great hurry to catch the others, this Duegan's Crew, before they began the Invitation, but now her desires were to relax for a bit and maybe get a bite to eat. "There's always next year," she said to herself, remembering the old innkeeper's words. She looked at the boy and said, "Unless this Duegan's Crew returns from Malachi's Invitation successful."
The boy smiled as he started on a third apple. "I rather doubt that, milady. The Invitation has been on for over two hundred years, and none have returned. Some say, though, that there was a fpathen -"
"A fpathen wizard," Jessica finished, holding up her hand. "Yes, I know the tale." As she leaned over the table, snatching a section of apple from the small boy, the sound of the front door of the tavern could be heard from behind her. Jessica's free hand fell to the hilt of her long sword as she turned her head, her teeth sinking deep into the apple slice. From the foyer of the tavern appeared a lone man, dressed in a long sleeved black shirt and dark brown pants tucked into short black boots, appearing to be standard military issue. A solid vest of plate mail covered the man's upper body and was the only visible piece of armor that Jessica could see. Draped over his shoulders and extending down past his calves was a cloak of black.
The man slipped off his right black glove, and then his left, and asked, "What is your name, boy?"
"Alex, milord," the youth replied as he placed the slicing knife on the table, his attention full on the man. Jessica took another bite of apple, feeling a hint of guilt at not having asked the boy his name earlier.
The man glanced quickly at Jessica, nodding his head once, his long mane of black hair with streaks of gray falling forward to cover his shoulders. A slight chill ran over Jessica's skin as she eyed the man's black tunic and his thick, black hair, with visions of her parent's killer racing through her mind. She locked her eyes on those of the man for the briefest of moments and relaxed slightly, for they were of a brown so dark, they seemed almost black. "I am looking for the passage to Malachi's Invitation, Alex," the man said, his voice deep and as smooth as a looking glass. "Can you assist me?"
"Wha - well, as I told the lady here just a few moments ago, Monk has already taken Duegan's Crew up the trail -"
"I am aware of that, Alex," the main said, cutting the young boy off. "I only need to know where the trailhead is. I ask again, can you assist me?" At this, the man took a casual step forward, turning his hip slightly so that the jeweled hilt of his blade could be seen by both Jessica and the boy. Jessica could hear Alex swallow hard as she tossed the last bit of apple into her mouth.
"Follow the path around the tavern," Alex said, his voice shaky. "It will lead you to the trailhead."
The man nodded his head and smiled, slipping his black gloves on and producing a gold coin, from where Jessica knew not. He flipped it across the table to Alex, who caught the gold cron with a shaky hand. "Your assistance is most appreciated, Alex," the main said as he turned and walked out of the tavern.
Jessica swallowed the last bit of apple and turned toward Alex, taken back slightly by the paleness of the youth's face. Having a sudden sense of immediate purpose once again, Jessica stood, grabbed her pack and tossed it over her shoulder, and walked over to stand next to the boy. She took the gold coin from his open palm, held it up to inspect its markings, then let her teeth test its validity. "A true Langington cron, Alex," she said, dropping it back into the boy's hand before crossing the dining room and turning into the foyer. "Take my bit of apple out of it, won't you?" She lifted the latch of the door and stepped out of The Wizard's Tavern.
"Planning on following me?" the deep, smooth voice asked as Jessica stepped off the single step. The man in black was leaning against the wall to the left of the door, his right hand wrapped around the hilt of his sheathed blade. Jessica pivoted quickly, her legs bending and her feet spreading as she took on a fighting stance, her hands crossing over to grab hold of her own weapons. "Two-blade fighting," he said, taking a step away from the tavern. He raised his brow, nodding his head with approval. "Most impressive, my lady, but I did not mean to startle you."
"I wasn't startled," Jessica replied, lying poorly, knowing full well that if he had wanted to cut her down as she stepped out the front door, he could have. "Just didn't expect to see you standing there. Seemed as though you were in a bit of a hurry to get up the trail."
"As I suspect you are," he said.
Jessica stood up straight and uncrossed her arms, letting them fall to her sides. "I had planned on joining in on the Invitation this year, if that's what you're asking." She glanced over the man's tan face, trying to read his intentions, as she was able to do with most people, but found nothing. He was a cold man, Jessica was sure, and this made her uneasy. She knew that a traveling companion could be both an advantage and disadvantage: a second blade in a fight, as well as the one who could slice her throat while she slept and rob her blind. But she didn't want to let him out of her sights, for there was something strange, nearly sinister, about the man that Jessica couldn't explain. Besides, she needed to get up that mountain, and since he was heading in the same direction . . .
"Any reason why you would mind me joining you?" she asked, her tone as expressionless as possible.
The man smiled slightly and bowed to her. "Dade, at your service, my lady."
"Dade what?" she asked
"Just Dade."
Maybe this wasn't such a grand idea, she thought to herself. "Geirtel Herith," she said, tipping her head in reply, using the name of a pickpocket she knew back in Vollmer.
Dade glanced over his shoulder at Mount Gideon, then back at Jessica. "Shall we, then?"
It was a short time before nightfall, with the sky fading from deep blue in the west to blackness speckled with the occasional star in the east, when Jessica and Dade came across four dead orcs. From what Jessica could see, their bodies had been covered in several tattered blankets, and those blankets had been covered with loose dirt. "Perhaps to hide them from other orc patrols," Dade said as he knelt next to the dead orcs, somewhat blocking Jessica's view. He pulled the blankets back over the orcs and stood.
"Haven't been dead long," Jessica stated. Dade turned to her, his right brow raised slightly. "This camouflage might hide the orcs from others of their kind, for they are rather dim of mind, but they wouldn't keep the scavengers away," Jessica explained. "No for long anyway."
"You may be right," Dade said as he moved past Jessica and continued his trek up the trail. "We best keep moving."
"Don't you think we should search them?" Jessica asked, looking from Dade to the dirty blankets as she knelt.
"They would have been searched by whomever killed them," Dade said. "And besides, there isn't much there to search."
Jessica tossed back one blanket and let out a silent gasp. The face of the orc that lay before her held an expression of total surprise, its head attached to its body by a thin cord of charred brownish green skin and muscle no thicker than Jessica's thumb. The charring extended up onto the orc's face and down upon its chest, the fire or flame that had hit the humanoid hot enough to burn clean through the top of the orc's thin vest of plate mail. She leaned in a little closer and felt the tips of her tapered ears tingle slightly. "Magic," she said softly, replacing the blanket. Although her human half kept some of her magical abilities in check, the fpathen and pseithen blood that ran through Jessica's veins was very potent, and she could sense the presence of magic even days, sometimes weeks, after it had been used.
"Do you now believe me?" Dade asked with a wry smile from where he stood up the trail, his arms crossed over his chest.
"No offense to your talents, but you might have missed something," she replied as she stood and walked past the man in black and into a small clearing some fifteen feet by twenty, with rock walls on all sides standing five to ten feet high. In the center of the clearing was a smoldering firepit and two short, thick logs, positioned on either side of the fire. She knelt down next to the firepit, holding her hand over the cooling embers. "No more than half a day, at best," she told Dade as he walked across the clearing to stand before an opening in the rock wall.
"This is where the trail continues," he said, glancing up at the dark eastern sky. In the distance, the Twin Princes of the Night Sky, Terranna and Jaterran, could be seen cresting the edge of Mount Gideon. "The twin moons will assist us in guiding our way, but I'd just as soon not chance an encounter in the dark. What say you, Geirtel?"
Jessica was familiar with the cycles of the two smaller moons and knew that they would both be waxing crescent this night. Not much light for a human to see by, but enough for one of elfin blood. Even half-elfin, Jessica thought to herself as she focused her sight from normal vision to one that could see in textures of hot and cold. Jessica glanced from the firepit, which in her eyes was nothing more than a ring of cooling blue rocks surrounding embers pulsating soft red and orange, to where Dade stood, the strange man now a figure of harsher reds and oranges, outlined in a soft orange fading into green, fading into blue. She grinned slightly as she stood. "A couple hundred more feet away from this clearing and I'd be a bit more comfortable," she said. "No telling if those orcs back there," - she tossed a thumb over her shoulder - "have any friends out on patrol. This clearing isn't very defensible."
Dade nodded his head. "Agreed," he said as he continued up the trail, Jessica following a few steps back. They walked on until the Twin Princes hung free over Mount Gideon, two glowing crescents against a black background. Dade stopped at a bend in the trail, where the rock walls were no more than two or three feet high. From this point, they would be able to spot anyone - or anything - coming up or going down the trail, as well as have a clear view over the rock wall.
"This should do nicely," he said as he piled dried twigs and sticks together. Dade pulled flint and steel from a small pouch strapped to his belt and lit a spark, igniting the dried wood instantaneously. As the small fire grew in strength, Dade gently added larger sticks and small logs. In the time it took Jessica to get her bedroll prepared and herself somewhat settled, Dade had a descent fire going.
"You've learned much in the military," Jessica said, eyeing the man who stood opposite her, across the fire. She laid her short sword on the ground to her left and her long sword to her right, her hand digging into her pack and pulling out a chunk of dried meat and a piece of dark bread. She had been surprised that her hunger had been held at bay for the better half of the late day and early evening, despite the fact that all she had to eat was a quarter slice of an apple Alex had been working on in The Wizard's Tavern.
Dade sat on the ground across from Jessica, the fire crackling between them as he added another short log. "I'm traveling light this day, lady Geirtel. Could you please . . . ?" He cast off a smile her way, which sent a slight chill dancing across her shoulders. She glanced down at the dried meat and bread she held, suddenly realizing that Dade had journeyed into the foothills of Mount Gideon without supplies of his own. She thought it odd that someone would attempt the Invitation without even the simplest of rations, but decided to keep this to herself as she reached into her pack and pulled out another chunk of dried meat and a piece of bread, tossing them to Dade. "I, and my stomach, thank you," he said as he bit the dried meat in two. He chewed on the meat for a long while, his eyes gazing across the flames at Jessica. "You noticed the boots," he said after a long moment, taking a bite of the dark bread.
"Back at the tavern." She finished off her dried meat, taking a small bite of the dark bread. "Your armor holds no crest, least not one visible, and your clothing is fine but simple. The boots, however . . . " She let her sentence trail, hoping that Dade would offer up a bit of information about his past, anything that would help Jessica understand exactly what sort of man she was dealing with. She had found herself becoming more attracted to Dade as they had ascended the foothills of Mount Gideon but, at the same time, more leery of him. There was an odd presence about the man, almost to the point of causing the tips of her tapered ears to tickle. By the time the two had made camp, she was certain of only two things about the man that sat before her: he had strong intentions on completing Malachi's Invitation successfully, and he was more than just the smooth swordsman his appearances made him out to be.
"Gave it away, hmm?" Dade said, grinning as he crossed one leg over the other and tapped the tips of his black leather boots together. "A reminder of a place, and of a time, far from here," he told her. Jessica was able to catch just a glimmer of emotion, something unlike the charming and controlled facade that he presented, deep within his dark eyes. But as quickly as it had appeared, the glimmer was gone, replaced with a hard smile. "Sometimes you need to hold on to the past, if even in the smallest, simplest of ways. It reminds you of where you've come from, and where you might be going."
Jessica let the thumb on her left hand slip in between her first and second fingers, turning the signet ring of the Liersthe family so that the single initial 'L' was facing toward her palm. "I suppose," she said, finishing off the bread and taking a long drink from a waterskin. She passed it over to Dade before returning it to her pack. "I've got first watch," she said as she stood and stretched her back, turning in a full circle so as to scan the terrain over the short rock wall. The only sources of heat that she could detect came from their small campfire and the man that sat across from it. She nodded once to herself and sat back down, crossing her legs and laying her long sword across her lap.
Dade shook his head. "Allow me the first watch, lady Geirtel. You'll sleep better in the night's darkness than the Dirion's early morning light."
Jessica eyed him from across the fire. "I'll sleep fine, regardless."
Dade grinned slightly as he leaned back against the stone wall. "As you wish, my lady. Wake me when you become sleepy."
Jessica watched as the man closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and fell silent. She felt small comfort when her gaze fell upon the hilt of Dade's blade, the weapon still in its sheath. She turned to look down the trail, then back to look up it. Nothing move, save the flickering flames of the campfire and the vest of plate mail that covered Dade's chest, rising and falling slightly with each breath. Jessica tossed two more large sticks on the fire and glanced up at the night sky.
The Twin Princes were well above the edge of Mount Gideon, the gray crescent of Jaterran, with its unseen poles capped in golden light, seeming as though it were chasing the deep blue and dark green slice of Terranna through the night. Playing their children's game with the parents away, Jessica thought to herself, remembering a verse from an old song she had learned back when she was but a child herself. The 'parents' that the verse referred two were Mektorrin and Kallissa, the other two larger moons that weren't visible this night. Jessica could remember seeing Kallissa, the second largest of the four moons and referred to as the Lady of the Night Sky, only a handful of times, appearing in the night sky as a ball of creamy jade every fourteen years, and then for only six or seven nights, bringing with her great celebrations throughout the fpathen and pseithen races, for she was the Goddess of the Forests and All Who Dwell. As her thoughts stopped on Kallissa for a moment, Jessica made a quick gesture over her heart with her right hand. Not religious in the truest sense of the word, and no where near possessing the ranger and wizard talents of her pseithen brothers and sister, nor her fpathen cousins, Jessica nevertheless found comfort deep within that the Lady of the Night Sky was watching over her elfin children, even one of mixed half-blood.
The fourth and largest of all the moons and known as the Lord of the Night Sky, Mektorrin had been seen by Jessica only twice in her lifetime. It appeared ever twenty-two years, a huge ball of swirling crimson and deep yellow streaking across the sky over Western Glashia for only two days and two nights, carrying with it minor changes in the weather, as well as celebrations throughout all of Western Glashia that dwarfed those held for Kallissa tenfold. Myth held that Mektorrin was the brother of Dirion, known as the God of All to some, the Bringer of Life to others. The brothers had fought a thousand-year war over the hand of the goddess Kallissa a hundred millennia past, a war that was said to have started all life upon the world. In the end, Mektorrin prevailed, but not before his brother stole much of the powers the Lord of the Night Sky possessed. Where he once ruled over the realms of the living, the dead, and those yet to live, of the lands and of the seas, of the light of day and the pitch of night, of the control over the course of time and that which it kept at bay by it, Mektorrin's control was reduced to the lands without the forests and glens, including the massive mountain ranges, the vast seas, and the seemingly endless snow-covered tundra of the north.
Needing some assistance in ruling over the realms he acquired after the battle, Dirion coupled with the darkness of the night and the light of the day, giving birth to two daughters: Abilloth, Lordess of the Dead and Ruler of the World Thereafter, and Teakath, Guardian of the Hall of Souls. He then coupled with Abilloth and Teakath, giving birth to Vogan, the God of War, and Nivina, the Goddess of Justice. Centuries were said to have passed while Dirion coupled with Vogan and Nivina, and then with the offspring they produced, and so on until the Heavenly Court was established And with the Heavenly Court came harmony among the gods, the life upon the world flourished.
Jessica closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. In a certain point of view, the course of her own life - that of the daughter of a Kingdom governor, to that of a simple street urchin, to that of a cunning thief and skilled warrior - seemed rather insignificant compared to the mystical intrigue surrounding the gods of the realm. But where the gods had the powers to change the course of their existence, Jessica had found herself powerless, unable to reclaim her family title and royal claim in Vollmer and, more importantly, to find the murderer of her parents, the crystal-eyed madman. Her mind then wandered once again to Malachi's Invitation, and what awaited those successful of his trickery. Powers beyond imagining, or so the old pub tales had said over the years. Powers that had been created by the evil wizard Malachi over two centuries prior for the sole purpose of enticing adventurers from all corners of Western Glashia, and beyond, to venture into the belly of Mount Gideon - Malachi's domain - and defeat the many tests Malachi set before them. Only the strongest of will and bravest of heart were first to journey into the Kingdom of Langington, to the river village of Keledon, and then on to Mount Gideon. And after the strongest of will and bravest of heart never returned from the mount's belly, those seeking chancy plunder and quick power were close to follow. Two hundred years later, Jessica Liersthe decided to take up the quest, which had brought her north out of Vollmer, across the length of the Kingdom, and into the foothills of Mount Gideon. She took in another deep breath, thinking of the time that had gone by, and then realizing how long she had let her mind wander, wondered just how much time had actually gone by.
She opened her right eye, and then her left. The Twin Princes had skated higher into the night sky by at least one fingerlength; not more than a brief cat nap to some, but enough time for Dade, the dark swordsman that had rested in slumber on the other side of the fire, to slip away undetected.
Jessica swore silently to herself, her right hand finding the hilt of her long sword, the weapon laying motionless upon her lap. As her fingers tightened around the thick leather wrap covering the body of the blade's hilt, the gentle tumble of a pebble gave her cause to turn her head to the left, but pure instinct alone had her rolling back and to the right. Tucking her knees in and rolling at an angle, her right shoulder providing support for her body in motion, Jessica saw out of the corner of her eye a streak of gold, followed by a solid thud that caused the tips of her ears to tickle. She continued the roll, awkwardly pushing up with her left hand, landing on her feet slightly off balance, the tip of her long sword scraping against the ground. Jessica grunted as she fell back into the short stone wall, her right elbow striking at such an angle as to send a stinging wave down her forearm. For a moment, her fingers lost their grip, and the long sword fell to the ground.
"You are quick, milady," the deep, smooth voice said. Jessica regained her footing and pivoted as she crouched, her eyes falling the short, golden hilt of a dagger protruding from the center of her bedroll, where she had been sitting only moments before. About ten feet in front of her, across from the dying fire, stood Dade, his right hand wrapped around the hilt of a bastard, or hand-and-a-half, sword. She knew it to be a weapon normally requiring the strength of both hands, for the blade alone was almost four feet in length. But as Jessica looked up at the man wielding the massive sword as though it were nothing more than a short blade, she could tell by the expression Dade wore, one of malignant-filled confidence, that there was much more to him that meets the eye. "But it matters not how quick you are," Dade said, adding with a snicker, "or think you are." He took a step toward her, raising his sword slowly. "On this night, you will die."
Jessica swallowed hard, the tip of her tongue gliding over dry lips. The stinging in her arm was slowly subsiding and she knew that she could once again grip her own blade firmly, but only if she had enough time to reach for it. But as Dade took another step closer, Jessica knew that he would cut her down before she had a chance to defend herself. Glancing down at the sword that lay at her feet, Jessica caught a glimpse of her reflection in the blade of her long sword. For the briefest of moments, she thought she saw the fluttering of gentle wings as a bird of some kind flew across the night sky, casting its own reflection upon the blade. Suddenly , at that instant, she remembered something Uncle Jorge had taught her when she was much younger.
They had decided to go out beyond the city limits of Vollmer, with Uncle Jorge wanting to show her that there was more than cobblestone streets and wood and brick houses in the world. She had never ventured any further than the bailey of the castle when her parents were alive, her closest contact to pure nature the large atrium her father had constructed in the rear of the keep, and found herself exhilarated when her uncle first mentioned it. They had traveled deep into a small growth of forest some half-day's walk from the city when Uncle Jorge stopped and fell to a crouch. Instinctually, Jessica followed her mentor. "Do you see that robin, struggling on the ground up ahead?" he had asked her in a whisper as he pointed down the overgrown hunting trail they were following.
At first she couldn't see the bird. Instead, she saw the slithering back of a large snake coming out from behind a thicket. "A snake," she had replied in an excited whisper. She let her eyes follow the path the snake was slowly taking until she saw what her Uncle had pointed out. "I see the bird, Uncle." It was a robin, just as he had said, and it was hopping and rolling with one wing bent up and back, appearing to be broken. Close behind and gaining on the lame bird was a blackstar snake, as dark as pitch with a single twinkle of silver on its head.
"Now, do you see the nest over there?" Uncle Jorge had asked her, pointing at a clump of twigs and dirt stuck between two low branches. From the top of the nest, two small heads appeared, bobbing up and down likes corks in water. Jessica watched as her Uncle Jorge smiled wide and held up his hand, fingers extended out. As he curled each finger, he softly counted down. "Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one."
As he said "one", the robin folded down its lame wing and lifted off the ground in a great furry of feathers, chirping a song of cheerily chup chup as it flew. From within the nest, two more robins, smaller than the first, flew out, following the larger bird through the woods and out of sight. Jessica and her uncle watched the blackstar for a few moments longer as its body was unmoved, save for its thin, black tongue, flickering out and then back, out and then back. A few moments later, the blackstar turned itself around and slithered back into the thicket.
"The robin was not hurt at all," Jessica has said, amazed at both the ruse the bird had played on the blackstar snake, and at her uncle for knowing the precision of the bird's actions. "How did you know?"
"The robin was a decoy," he had said, standing back up. "Playing the lame bird so as to draw the blackstar from her nest."
"Wondrous," she had replied, looking up at her Uncle Jorge with great respect
"If done and done well," he had said, leading her deeper into the woods, "the lame robin ploy, as you may refer to it, can be used as a great diversionary tactic. Catch your opponent off guard, make 'em think you're a lame robin, and then," - he clapped his hands together - "make your move."
Jessica clenched her right hand into a fist, exaggerating a wince of pain she hoped Dade would fall for. She let herself fall back into the rock wall behind her, grunting as she dropped to one knee, her eyes swelling with tears as she fought hard not to blink, just as Uncle Jorge had taught her. "Please . . . " she whimpered, her fear within turning to rage as she thought of how this man, this single man, had made her beg, even if it were only a ruse.
Dade's smile grew as he stopped his advance, letting the flat end of his sword's blade rest against his right shoulder. "Quick, but weak," he laughed, resting his left hand upon his hip as he let out a sigh. "And I was so hoping for an exciting fight this eve."
"Please, milord," Jessica begged as she rubbed her right elbow and forearm, her weight shifting on her knee just enough to equal out her balance. "I don't want to die this night. Wha - why do you attack me? Please, I beg of you. Be kind . . . please."
Dade tossed his head back and laughed, a deep bellow that chilled Jessica's spine. She dropped her eyes quickly, seeing that the hilt of the long sword lay toward her at a slight angle. She'd have to roll to the left as she went for it, over her bedroll and near to the fire. "Why, I am being kind to you, my dear Geirtel," Dade laughed, looking back down at her. "Kinder than - well, than others would be. A swift death for you and your companions is not what they had in mind, but they have their own ways of dealing with matters," - Dade took a step toward Jessica, the smile slipping from his face - "and I have mine."
Who are these others he speaks of, Jessica wondered as she curled up her toes, readying herself. And who are these companions of mine? Her mouth curled its ends as she said in a shaky voice, "I'm sure we can work this out in a more . . . beneficial way, for both of us, that is. You know," - she swallowed hard, feeling the last bit of sting leave her right arm - "you're a rather handsome man, and I've been on the road for a long time, and -"
"I've had my fill of homely wenches such as yourself," Dade said, taking yet another step closer. With a full extension of his arm, Jessica knew that Dade could strike her down from where he stood. "Your gift would be an unwanted one." Dade placed his left hand on the vest of plate male covering his chest and bowed slightly. "No offense intended, my dear."
Jessica boiled, letting her right arm drop to her side. "None taken." Jessica thanked the gods for the few moments she was granted while Dade gloated arrogantly. She moved swiftly, reaching down for her long sword as she rolled to her left. Extended her left hand as she rolled over her bedroll, Jessica grabbed hold of the short sword she had placed next to it earlier that night. As she came to her feet on the other side of the small campfire, still in a crouching position, she felt a wisp of air down the back of her neck, followed by the sound of steel striking rock. She pivoted to her right and brought her blades up over her head and crossed one over the other just as Dade attacked with a downward stroke. Jessica caught his blade between her two swords, where the blades crossed one another, with the force of the man's attack almost knocking her off her feet.
Jessica knew that it would take Dade a moment to recover from the downward attack, despite the fact that he handled a hand-and-a-half sword with a single hand, and decided to go on the offensive. She stood quickly, pushing his blade aside with her short sword as she swung her long sword with a backhanded motion. The tip of the long sword cut through the left sleeve of Dade's black tunic and bounced off the edge of his plate mail vest with a loud ching!, followed by a fine spray of crimson that dripped down his armor.
"Bitch!" Dade spat as he lunged at her, his bastard sword slicing the air from right to left. Jessica rolled again, this time to her right, extending her long sword as she did so. The two blades clashed in a volley of sparks, knocking the long sword from her hand and causing her to tumble to the side, landing her flat on her back. "Time to die," Dade said through clenched teeth as he advanced, both hands now gripping the hilt of the bastard sword as he raise the massive blade over his head.
Jessica haphazardly tossed her short sword at Dade, the weapon tumbling through the air. She knew that the throw wasn't hard enough to do any real damage and, as Dade pushed out his chest, knocking the blade aside with the vest of plate mail he wore, Jessica kicked out with her right foot, catching his knee with the heel of her boot. Jessica heard a satisfying crack as she rolled onto her knees and quickly crawled away. She reached her bedroll, pulled out the golden dagger that again caused the tips of her ears to tickle, but more so this time than before, enough to send a quick shot of pain through her head. She fell to her left as she brought the small blade behind her head, jerking her arm forward to send the dagger sailing end over end toward Dade. As Jessica once again fell to her back, she heard the sound of steel hitting stone. Then all suddenly fell very silent, and very still. Dade was gone.
Jessica quickly retrieved her long sword, standing cautiously before scanning the area around the small camp site, squinting slightly in hopes of seeing beyond the powers of her night vision. The only source of heat she was able to detect was the cooling embers of the campfire at her feet. "Where have you gone, my little snake?" she said softly, walking over to where Dade's bastard sword lay upon the group, next to a pair of foot prints deep within the dirt. Jessica was able to follow the prints around the camp site, and deduced that they had been made during their brief sword fight. Aside from those and the trail he had made when first coming up the path, Jessica could not find any other tracks. More to the point, none leading out of the campsite.
Jessica picked up the golden dagger and Dade's bastard sword, finding that her ears tickled when she touched each weapon, more so with the sword than the dagger. She quickly got her bedroll and pack in order, stowing the golden dagger within her pack while slipping the bastard sword through the opening under the top flap of the pack. She slipped the pack over her shoulders, sheathed her short sword, and dowsed what remained of the campfire with a kick of dirt. "Should make it before midday," Jessica said, following the trail with her eyes as it switchbacked the foothills, and then the base, of Mount Gideon. With a sigh of resignation, she began her trek up the trail, moving at a slow, cautious pace, the briefest of smiles parting her lips as she left the campsite behind. Dade had been more than just a military swordsman, that Jessica was sure of. She hadn't beaten him in combat, but she had bested him on their first encounter, and he had lost his sword. Not to mention his pride, Jessica thought. She knew their paths would cross, and at this she smiled again.
Dirion was twice above the horizon and just peaking over the edge of Mount Gideon by the time Jessica reached a small clearing before the entrance to a tunnel. She sighed and smiled, licking her dry lips before swigging a mouthful of spring water she had come across just before sunup. As she returned the waterskin to her pack, a voice, both robust and commanding, boomed, "Halt and make yourself known!"
Jessica fell into a fighting stance instantly, her hands held away from the hilts of her sheathed blades, but held at the ready. A spirit guardian of some kind, she wondered as she glanced from left to right, finding only shrubs and rock. "I say again, make yourself known!" the voice boomed for a second time, startling Jessica slightly.
She took a deep breath and softly cleared her throat. "I am a traveler seeking Malachi's Invitation," she said, her tone flat and without emotion.
"You're late," the voice replied. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, for she had no response. After a short moment of silence, the voice asked, "What's your name, traveler?"
Jessica knew in her mind not to give a true response, for some wizards and sorcerers were said to possess powers that could be used to control an individual if they knew their name. She opened her mount, fully ready to explain that her name was Geirtel Herith, the pickpocket from Vollmer, when she said, "Jessica Liersthe, daughter of the late Governor Liersthe of Vollmer." She snapped her jaw shut and slapped her right hand over her mouth as the tips of her ears were tickled slightly.
"Is the truth so shocking?" the booming voice laughed. From behind a larger boulder positioned to the left of the tunnel entrance appeared a short, stocky man with a single tuft of hair on his head and an enormous smile that split his face, one that washed away any feelings of fear Jessica had building up. He wore a boiled leather vest, belted tightly around his port belly, that dropped down just above his knees. A pair of soft leather pants were tucked into mid-length, brown leather boots. A mace with a massive iron head dotted with spikes and a handle thicker than her arm was held in his right hand, tossed casually over his shoulder.
Jessica let her hand drop from her mouth. "One of Malachi's guardsmen?" she asked the man before her, somehow knowing that that wasn't not the case. "Or a protector of the grove we both stand in, perhaps?"
"A simple guide this day," he replied.
"And of yesterday, and tomorrow?"
"Ahh, yesterday I was a barkeep, and tomorrow I suspect I'll be the kitchenmaster."
Jessica nodded her head once. "Monk from The Wizard's Tavern, I presume."
The portly man tipped his head slightly, his smile in tow. "And the last of the Liersthe family, I presume," he replied with a wink.
Her brow furrowed. "How would you know of my past?" she asked, letting her hands rest casually on the hilts of her swords.
"It's good to know about people and things."
Jessica regarded the man standing before her. "You're more than just a barkeep and kitchenmaster," she said.
Monk shrugged his shoulders. "I've been told as much."
"Many things to many different people, eh?" she asked with a wry grin, remembering what the young boy Alex had told her of his employer the day before.
"Something like that," Monk replied, nodding his head. He motioned with his free hand to the large boulder he was hidden behind a moment before and to a basket of fruits, bread, and cheese that, when Jessica had last glanced that way, had not been there. "I suspect you traveled most of the night and slept little," he said, taking a seat upon a short rock. He reached into the basket, pulled out an apple, and took a hearty bite.
Jessica's mouth began to water as she eyed the contents of the basket. She felt very relaxed, much like she did upon entering The Wizard's Tavern the day prior. The Invitation isn't going anywhere, she told herself, glancing over at the tunnel entrance to her right. With fear and apprehension toward Monk being the furthest things from her mind, she made her way to the large boulder and dropped down in front of it, reaching into the basket for a slice of fresh bread and some soft cheese. "I slept not at all," she replied between mouthfuls. "Thanks to a man I had joined up with down in Keledon yesterday, that is."
Monk tossed a handful of grapes into his mouth. "Another hopeful for the Invitation?"
Jessica nodded her head. "Or so he said he was, at any rate." As she peeled and consumed a ripe, yellow banana, Jessica explained her travels with Dade and the short battle that had ensued the night before between the two. "But he was more than just a military swordsman, that I am sure of," she said, tossing the banana peel behind a small bush.
"It sounds like this Dade fellow could wield arcane powers almost as well as he did this sword of his," Monk said, slipping the bastard sword free from Jessica's pack. He held the sword before his face, turning it slowly as he regarded the blade. "Definitely enchanted," he said.
"Yes, I felt it too."
Monk glanced over his shoulder at Jessica and smiled. "I know you did," he said, reaching over to tap the tip of her right ear. "From your father's side, I would suspect. The fpathen have a better grasp at magic than the pseithen."
She leaned back slightly, eyeing the man before her. "I find myself wanting to ask again how you know of my past, but I fear you'll run me around the real answer."
Monk winked at Jessica, turning his eyes on the blade he held. He turned the bastard sword over to inspect the weapon's hilt. "I'd say this came from within Alaretra, most likely Voster," he explained. "You can tell by the wrapping here on the hilt. It's shark skin, not leather. I know of very few Glashian smiths that use shark skin."
"Voster, you say?" Jessica asked, trying to remember where the foreign kingdom was in relation to the country of Alaretra, and where that sat in relation to Western Glashia. She knew that due west of the Kingdom of Langington, beyond the Province of Arvandus and the Independent State, sat the neutral trading state of Cannovan. Across the Merchant Straits was Berniban, the neutral trading state for the country of Alaretra, and beyond that was, "The Kingdom of Voster. Now I remember," she said, nodding her head. "Do you find it odd that it might have originated from Alaretra, though?"
"Yes, seeing as though weapon trade is forbidden between Western Glashia and Alaretra," Monk said. "But the smuggling of weapons is not unheard of. And something interesting about his sword is the fact that it was crafted by a dervatear smith. This steel here," he said, tapping the blade, "this has been folded and treated more times than most men - be they human, elf, or otherwise - have the patience for. And the way the blade is set into the hilt . . . remarkable."
Jessica knew very little about the dwarven race that inhabited Tsan Range to the west and the Fillian and Kienkin Mountains in the Arvandus. Living as one with the rock and ore they mined from it, the dervatear were highly regarded for their smithing abilities when it came to weapons and armor, and it was said that a long sword or a great helm crafted by the hands of a dervatear master smith would last ten times as long, and withstand ten times the beating, as the same item created by one of another race. But of all she had heard, whether it be rumor or not, Jessica was nearly certain of one thing. "I thought there weren't any dervatear in Alaretra."
Monk handed the bastard sword to Jessica, and as soon as she wrapped her nimble fingers around the hilt, she could feel a power flowing from the blade. "Apparently there are, lass," he said.
"But what of this enchantment you spoke of?" Jessica asked, gazing upon the steel blade of the bastard sword.
"Angle the blade a little more and you'll see the runes etched into her side," Monk explained. Jessica turned the bastard sword slightly to the left until she could see the faint etching the barkeep spoke of. "It's an ancient fpathen script," he said. "Can you read it?"
Jessica shook her head slowly, her eyes fixed on the line of runes running three-quarters up the blade's length. "I'm afraid I'm not very learned with the fpathen script used today, let alone that used by the ancients. But here," she said, tapping her finger on a set of four runes , "it appears as though this says 'beyond death', or something close to that. What do you make of it?" she asked Monk.
The barkeep held up a hand. "I barely know the Emperor's Tongue, let alone anything in fpathen, ancient or otherwise. No, if you think that it might say 'beyond death', then perhaps that's what it says."
"I could be wrong," Jessica admitted, lowering the tip of the sword so that it rested against the soft dirt at her feet as she scratched a tickle away from the tip of her left ear.
"That you could," Monk agreed, tossing in another mouthful of grapes and ginning. Jessica reached into the basket and pulled out another slice of bread and a bit of cheese, eating them slowly while she and Monk sat quietly together. She gazed around the clearing and beyond, finding the landscape breathtaking and, at the same time, wondering just why it was she had come to this spot in the first place.
"Um, how long will you be staying up here?" Jessica asked Monk when she had finished with her bread and cheese, retrieving a handful of black grapes for herself.
"Not too much longer, I suspect," he replied with a wink as her right ear tickled slightly. "Should be getting back down to The Wizard's Tavern some time after dusk, I imagine."
Jessica nodded her head. "I wouldn't think you couldn't leave Alex alone for too long a period of time to run things," she said with a smile.
Monk furrowed his brow slightly, his head tilting to one side. "Leave whom alone for too long a period of time?" he asked.
"Alex," Jessica said, remembering the young boy in detail. "Short, thin, brown hair and eyes. I assumed he was your assistance."
"Why would you think that?" Monk asked, the expression on his face looking increasingly confused.
Jessica tossed another grape into her mouth. "Well, when I went into The Wizard's Tavern, I didn't see anyone else about -"
"You went within the tavern?" Monk asked, genuinely surprised. "But how could you of?"
Now Jessica was the one donning the mask of confusion. "Through the front door, friend Monk," she said slowly. "As, I assume, all of your patrons do."
"Intriguing." Monk stroked the stubble on his chin, looking to Jessica as a man completely perplexed.
"Why does this bother you so?"
"Well," Monk began, pausing as though he was reconsidering what he was able to say. "Well, I was sure . . . rather, I made sure I locked up the tavern before leaving it yesterday morning."
"Does anyone else have a key?" Jessica asked.
Monk shook his head slowly. "Not to the kinds of locks I'm speaking of. But that's not what's bothering me, not completely anyway."
Jessica tossed in two more grapes. "What then?"
"This Alex boy you speak of," Monk said, his head still shaking. "I don't know who he is."
Jessica was taken aback slightly as she finished off the grapes. "Is he not your assistant?" she asked.
"Lass, I don't have an assistant. Nor a son, or nephew, or younger brother."
"Hmm, interesting," was all Jessica could think of, for she wasn't quite sure what to make of Monk's reaction to the mention of this phantom assistant, Alex. She was sure the young boy had been in The Wizard's Tavern the morning prior; she remembered the apple slice and the way his nose was tapered somewhat like the beak of a bird. She would have pondered it further had the faintest of tickles not danced across the tips of her ears. Anything beyond the beauty of the landscape and the food within the basket was lost as she gently stroked her ear.
"Well, it's nothing that can be handled from up hear," Monk said, more to himself than to her.
Jessica looked from Monk to the entrance in the side of the mountain. The tunnel beyond extending into the mountain's belly looked to be ten feet high by ten feet wide, smooth on the sides and curved at the top. On either side of the tunnel, midway up the walls, were flickering torches set in metal sconces. About ten steps into the tunnel was a second set of torches, and a third set further down. Jessica counted seven sets before they blended into a two flickers of light running parallel. Her mind a relaxed blank, Jessica asked, "Where does this lead?"
"No where for you, I'm afraid," Monk laughed, his tone sounding lighter than it had moments before. "That tunnel leads into the heart of Mount Gideon, my dear. That there is the front door for Malachi's Invitation."
"Oh," she said, nodding her head as though she understood what Monk was talking about. She reached down and took a ripe pear from the basket, sinking her teeth deep into the tender fruit, juice dripping down her chin. "This Invitation sounds . . . familiar," she said with a mouthful of pear. Suddenly, as the landscape beyond seemed to blur, she remembered where she was, and why she was there, and the chewed-up pear came out with a single cough. "By all the gods! The Invitation!" She stood quickly, tossing her pack over one shoulder as she stepped before the entrance, the bastard sword held firmly before her.
"Wha - uh, now hold on there, lass," Monk said quickly, moving to stand next to her. "As I said when you first got here, you're late."
"Yes, but -"
"And I understand your reason for being late," Monk cut in. "But I'm afraid we've never had late-comers to the Invitation, and I don't want to start now."
"But what of the dervatear cleric Merrital spoke of," Jessica said in a rush, her tone harsher than she had meant it to be.
"Kirock, yes," Monk said. "He did catch up with the rest of Duegan's Crew before they went in this morn, though. Having you enter by yourself is . . . well, I might as well hammer you over the head with my mace and get it over with right now."
Jessica turned to face the portly man square on. "Monk, I am not afraid of what lies within this mountain," she said, her teeth clenched solid, her eyes narrowing. "Nor am I afraid of this Malachi. If Duegan's Crew went in this morn, then they shouldn't be too far ahead, and I shouldn't have too much trouble catching up to them. Now, I've already explained that -"
Monk was shaking his head slowly. "Lass, it's going to eat you from the inside out," he said. Jessica stood before the man, her mouth opened wide, ready for whatever it was she was about to say. But nothing came out. "I understand the pain you feel," Monk continued. "But this vendetta, this revenge you wish to unleash, will surely kill you before you kill whomever it is you seek."
Jessica could feel the wind leaving her sails. "And who is it that I seek, Monk?" Jessica asked in a whisper, her shoulders slouching slightly as her eyes slowly filled. "You, who know so much."
Monk put his hand on her shoulder. "I know much, lass, but not all. And if I were privy to your parents killer, I don't know if I'd have the heart to tell you."
"How could you not?"
"Let it pass, girl."
Jessica could feel her throat tightening as her chin quivered slightly. "You don't . . . you don't understand," she said softly, her face awash. "No one has ever understood."
"And no one will," Monk said. "Not completely. But take it from an old, old man who's had more years of experience than I care to admit: revenge is a heartless, dark land you should never wish to visit."
She cleared her throat and wiped the back of her had across her cheek. "My parents were murdered twenty-nine years ago, Monk," Jessica said, her voice gaining strength. "I was removed from my castle - my home - and cast out to live alone for the four years following their deaths; alone and on the streets of Vollmer, surrounded by unforgiving souls, before I was rescued by my Uncle Jorge. But in those fours years I learned what revenge was. I learned what happened to an eight year old child when she came upon food or clothing or coin, and what the older beggars and dregs would do to her in order to have that food, that clothing, that coin, for themselves. I endured pains a child should never experience, and all because my parents fell at the hands of some murderer. I've set out on a quest for revenge not only to avenge my parents deaths, but to ease the pains from my childhood.
"I entered your dark land when I was but a child, Monk, and have been there ever since. My worry is not succumbing to the soullessness of revenge; that blackness already surrounds me day and night, in my dreams and when I pray. No, I worry about surviving this place that I have entered and this person that I have become. And the key to my survival is there," - Jessica pointed a steady finger down the center of the tunnel - "and that is where I must go."
"But what do you hope to find?" Monk asked.
"The power to aid me in my quest," Jessica said. "To help me end what was started twenty-nine years ago. If revenge destroys one's spirit, then my spirit was lost a long time ago. But to have any hope of regaining my lost spirit, of regaining what a child once had, I must be allowed to enter upon this Invitation and search out the powers I seek."
A long moment of silence passed before Monk lowered his arm, gently admitting defeat. "As I asked the others," he said, his voice soft, reminding her of Uncle Jorge, "if you do not return from the Invitation, is there anyone you would like me to inform?"
Jessica smiled slightly. "No, friend. There is no one."
Monk took two steps back from Jessica and cleared his throat. "Then may the light of Dirion shine upon you, even within the vileness of Malachi's domain, and may he look favorably upon your . . . soul."
Jessica nodded once at Monk before turning to face the tunnel entrance. She took a deep breath and cautiously stepping into the tunnel, the bastard sword dropped by Dade the night before gently vibrating in her hands. The light coming from the twin torches set every ten steps illuminated the tunnel enough so that her nightvision wasn't needed, but that didn't matter: Jessica squinted her eyes slightly as she looked down the long tunnel, hoping to catch a glimpse of something more than the smooth walls to her sides, or the flawless floor beneath her feet, or the twin torches set solid into the walls. She saw nothing.
Fifty feet into the tunnel and Jessica looked over her shoulder, expecting to see Monk standing before the entrance. The light brown of the dirt ground and the dark gray of the rocks were all that she saw. Monk had gone. "Fare well, friend Monk," Jessica said softly, returning her gaze to the endless tunnel before her. As before, she continued down the tunnel with a cautious step, knowing only that somewhere up ahead was the group of adventurers that had entered the Invitation earlier that day; a group called Duegan's Crew.
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