Age Recommendation: 16+
Bethia was a young girl abandoned at an orphanage, until the day that Markus of Eli, the dragon slayer from the war, strode into her life.
"Oh shut up!" The old woman snarled, glaring at the eight children who were standing around her in a loose semi-circle, "You will do your chores! You will be quiet. I want to hear no more of this nonsense. No one is coming to adopt you. You are here because nobody wants you! Now, what do you say?"
She raised an eyebrow, and the children all looked at their feet, sad expressions on all, "Thankyou, Jeanine, thankyou for your generosity."
The figure in the doorway ground his teeth, this was the woman in charge of the orphanage?
He sighed heavily and walked forward, as the old woman seemed to see him for the first time, "What do you want? I don't know... You people coming in here all the time..."
He crossed his arms, "I was thinking of adopting a child."
There was a brief flicker of uncertainty that crossed her face, and she sneered, "Really?"
He nodded slowly.
She looked him up and down, taking in his tailor-made leather armour, the sword across his back and the dagger by his side, and the comfortable way he held himself.
He was clearly some sort of soldier of fortune, but a mercenary of above average quality... She blinked, "Okay. Answer some questions, maybe you can."
He nodded, and she smiled meanly, "What is your name?"
"Markus of Eli."
She nodded, "What do you do for a living?"
"I... I'm the Runelore Master for South Rokunda." He said slowly.
She openly stared, "You expect me to believe a lie like that? That you are the Markus of Eli?"
He sighed heavily and drew the sword from his back, causing her to jump backwards. He stabbed it into the ground, splintering the wooden floor.
Immediately a deep voice boomed out, seemingly from all around.
FA'IK FAIO'LSO FAU'OUK.
Jeanine shivered and stared at the sword made from the spine of a dragon.
A dragon she knew he had slain with only a two inch knife.
She looked up at his face hesitantly, "My apologies... Master Markus... If you can find a child to your liking, though they are all worthless brats, you may buy them."
She recovered quickly, "The fee is four hundred gold coins."
Markus nodded and swung his sword up and onto his back again. Jeanine couldn't help notice that the wooden splinters from where he had stabbed the blade seemed to fall back into place, and the wood... Healed.
No mark remained.
She shivered as he walked away.
Markus crouched by a young girl, the only girl in the orphanage that he could see. She was sweeping industriously, as he approached she smiled happily, "Pick me!"
Markus smiled at her enthusiasm, "Why are you here?"
She looked down, her eyes betraying a familiar sadness, "My parents, Freida and Fry'd Tor'ax, died in the war with the dragon."
Markus winced, there was too much sadness in this world, "They fought for Dra'k Steading, didn't they?"
She nodded sadly, fighting tears, and then blinked in shock and looked up, "How did you know them?"
Markus smiled, his face a mirror of her grief, "I knew everyone who fought in that war... And afterwards... I went to see them all again. Your house was empty and dusty."
She shrugged, "I was sent here."
Markus suddenly grinned, "You're the only girl here aren't you?"
She nodded, her face glowing despite the tears on her cheeks, "The boys are really mean sometimes. I get lonely."
"Not anymore." He said and grinned, "Do you want to come with me, Bethia Tor'ax et Eli?"
Her jaw dropped, staring in shock, and then she dropped the broom and jumped, grabbing him around the neck, "Yes! Yes! Yes!"
He grinned and lowered her. Jeanine was struggling not to glare, her fear and contempt fighting it out. She stalked over, and Markus produced the amount nonchalantly, and grinned down at his... Daughter.
Jeanine frowned, "She needs to put her things together. We'll send her on a carriage... To?"
"Manor Eli." Markus said softly and grinned, crouching down to give her a hug, "I'll meet you there, Bethia."
Then he stood up and left slowly as he heard her packing quickly behind him to the annoyed 'tsk tsk' of Jeanine.
Markus, however, was walking up the stone steps into the keep, where the Knight Commander, Errard of St John, was waiting for him, and wore a rather sour expression.
Markus smiled softly, "Milord?"
The Knight Commander turned to look at him with a glare, "Go away, peasant, I am awaiting someone worth my time."
TOR'RAK
The word of the ancient tongue escaped from his mouth before he could stop it, shaking the ground and the ground around the Knight Commander shattered. Forming a ring of broken ring around the ruler.
He looked at Markus carefully, "Men have spent the rest of their lives in chains for less."
"I am Markus of Eli, and Knight Commander, I outrank you as the Runelore Master for the south of the Kingdom. An insult such as yours... Do you ever want to be heard from again?" He said seriously.
The Knight Commander swallowed nervously, "Ah. I apologise if you are he... But... The code phrase we agreed upon?"
"Let birds fall when snakes creep." Markus said and shrugged, "Now... Knight Commander, is there one compassionate individual in St John?"
The Knight Commander winced, fear in his eyes, "I am sorry, sir, I did not recognise you. Truly."
"I'll deal with that in a moment. Please answer my question."
The Knight Commander swallowed, noticeably paler, "Maria. The blacksmith's wife. She is rather good with children, and seems to care for even the least of the beggars."
Markus smiled, "Then I have this instruction: Ask, do not command, make sure she understands she is under no obligation to do so, ask her if she would not take over the orphanage from the wretched hag that is currently in charge there."
The Knight Commander looked at him perplexed, "Jeanine the Generous? A hag?"
Markus nodded, "She is cruel-hearted and showed no limit of contempt for me, and she knew who I was."
The Knight Commander nodded nervously, "I'll have her replaced, with Maria or another if she does not wish it."
"Thank you." Markus frowned, "As for your... Insult... I will ignore it based on the merit of my journey here."
The Knight Commander winced, "Follow me please, sir."
He led him into the keep, passed the areas dedicated to the general public and their concerns, and into its depths, where the guards were frequent and the sound of armour clanking was aggressive. They entered a small room covered in maps, each puckered with tiny pins.
The Knight Commander pointed to a certain area, geographically a little distance from the Keep of St. John, "There is a cave here, and as far as I have been able to determine, it is absolutely brimming with Dreists."
He frowned and opened a nearby book, "I've lost nine scouts to the area, and only two soldiers have survived from three patrols. I'm scared to risk the lives of more good soldiers. I don't have the strength to clear it out, it's unmapped, and goes fairly deep from what I understand, at least three caverns."
Markus frowned, "Does it have a name? A history?"
The Knight Commander nodded, pointing to a sentence on the open page, "Darkpoint Cavern. Named so because the blade of the Prince Dra'k was forged inside... With necromancy..."
HUU'L
Markus muttered without thinking, causing the building to rumble, and the Knight Commander swallowed, "Pardon?"
Markus smiled, looking at the map, "The name of that blade... Tell me, Sir Errard, do you know much about necromantic runelore?"
The Knight Commander shook his head, "No. Necromancy has been banned for a thousand years."
Markus nodded, "True enough, but some areas of runelore coincide with some principles of necromancy. Such as binding a soul to a blade, as I did with the dragon."
The Knight Commander shivered, "What is it you mean, sir?"
Markus frowned, "Necromantic forging of small blades, such as HUU'L require a certain... Sound. Everything vibrates to sound differently. Different echoes, if you will. If you create a sound that repels the original sound of the cave... It collapses in on itself."
The Knight Commander blinked, "Then you could kill all inside, easily. But... How do you know what the cave sounds like?"
Markus smiled and looked at Sir Andrew, "Because the sound is in the old tongue. The name of the blade is it's sound."
The Knight Commander grinned, "So what word will collapse the cave?"
The Runelore Master frowned, "Best if I do it myself."
© Copyright 2024, James Milne