The Long Road

[charm]

I posted these stories on Retro quite a while back. Figured it was about time to put them here on the rp board. They were each written in about five minutes, and have barely been proofread, so go easy on grammar and spelling The next post will contain the actual first story

[charm]

Furtive, fleeting glances… almost free. He’d almost made it. Almost safe. Almost. A crash in the bushes behind him tells him they’re still hunting him. The damn trolls are blood hounds. Slow and stupid at least. He might have a chance to get home alive, singed wings, broken leg, and all.

A quick run, hop, skip and a painful flutter of wings and he found himself unexpectedly at the edge of a wide plains. A sigh of resignation passed his lips. A hand through his sweaty green locks. He took one last look behind and hid, he needed a rest before he attempted one last desperate act. Rarely introspective, he decided there was nothing better to do and closed his eyes.

They came to him nearly a week ago, the burly Selkie Farsea and her diminutive companion leprechaun Gim.

“Wake up, dear,” Farsea’s lilting voice had cut through his slumber.

“Farsea, Gim. To what do I owe the pleasure?” He called out from the opening of his current burrow.

Gim giggled. Sounded just like a gremlin – always had reminded him of a gremlin. Would have sworn Gim was a half breed. “We’ve got one last job for you, ol’ buddy ol’ pal.”

“I’m retired.”

Gim landed with a light spring and smiled that usual unfriendly, gremlinesque smile. “Not retired enough my friend. You know you have to do one last job before you’re out. For queen and country.”

“Yeah, for queen and country.” He grimaced. Millenia of his life spent in duty. Everything for the queen, nothing for him. No regrets either, but he was ready to move on. “What’s the job?”

They outlined it for him. A sect of fallen were in negotiation to join the unseelie legion. He had to find out their contract and the battle plan. Farsea and Gim had all the details of where the meeting was to take place and the name of all the major players – and three agents had died just getting that information. They needed the best to finish the mission. Even retired, he was it. He was foolish enough to accept.

The mission started same as always. He scouted the enemy camp. Counted the guards, camo paint, soaked in chemicals to throw off trolls. Figured it would be easy, despite the heavy security. Trolls. Not to bright in the head. He hadn’t counted on the fallen. It was supposed to be one major player from the fallen camp. Instead, it was a whole legion – and they had more wards and traps set than a virginal princess on her wedding day.

Got the plans, almost out. Home… and then the ambush. Gremlins. Hundreds. Waiting for him. Dark daggers glistening in their cackling hands. Lust for his death gleaming in their bloodshot golden eyes. Duck, dive, weave, dodge, he’d done it all before. Never on this scale. Almost free, only cuts and scrapes, nothing he hadn’t had before. Then the real surprise.

Mage. He could smell the magic, feel it tingle in the air before it hit. He couldn’t dodge fast enough. Fire. The smell of singed wings. Agonizing searing pain. Wings went weak, he hit the ground. Broken ribs and a leg. Made it to the bushes. The hunt was on.

And so there he was. Dawn. An open field in front of him. In his pain and confusion he’d gone the wrong way. He knew all he had to do was send the signal and a telemancer would send Gim in to retrieve the plans – but getting far enough away from his pursuers to make the handoff was a problem. He was warded against teleportation to avoid a nasty little trick unseelie mages enjoyed – teleporting someone into the heart of a volcano – so he had to survive on his own. Nothing new.

The trolls neared. He couldn’t hide much longer. With a weak roll to his belly he crawled to the edge of the bush and took off with all the strength he could muster.

Trolls right behind him, hordes of gremlins following. Got unlucky. Arrow through the back. Falling. Blackness. Signal.

Gim on the edge of his perception. Handing off the plans. Tears in an old friend’s eyes. Gim – gone. Shadows gathering.

“We got you this time, you green haired bastard.” Gremlin named Toth.

“Yeah – you got me good.” Weakness, blood. Pierced lung and coughed blood. “Too good. You killed me. Wonderful for you. Sure you’d get a promotion – if I weren’t about to kill you.”

A weakly raised arm, hand balled in a fist. Fear in Toth’s eyes. A smile on the dying’s face. An extended middle finger.

“You just got f****ed by Charm.”

Death… Release.

[charm]

Cold. Dark. Damp. Dead? No, not dead, he assures himself. Tired, drained, weak. Waning remnants of pain. If not dead – then where? Captured? His heart sinks. Horror and dread fill his waking thoughts. He’d rather be dead. He should be dead. Wishes for death. Screams. Then he collects himself. There are no other screams save his, rebounding and echoing in the chamber.

No scent of death assaults his nostrils, no screams of agony assail his ears. Only silence – sweet silence. Not common for an enemy torture hive. His wounds have healed – also uncommon. Not dead. Not captured – not by the enemy. Where?

Juniper and lavender intoxicate his senses and a metal object slides across the ground.

“Who’s there?” His voice is weak. He’s not even sure he said anything. He gets no reply, either way. He searches for the object, detecting a faint trace of heat, and finds food. Steamed vegetables and a pitcher filled with feywine.

He no longer cares whether it’s a trap or if he’s with friends. He gulps back the wine and feasts on the vegetables. A horde of rabbits attacking a carrot patch would be impressed with his enthusiasm. He pauses and waits for delirium to take him. Always suspicious, expecting a trap. No delirium comes.

Goes back to bed and waits. Gathers his strength. No word from his captors or his friends. No windows, just four walls greatly spaced apart and a high ceiling. The cell wasn’t built for his kind.

Wakes the next day to find a candle lit for him, a table and chair have been set. Food and reading material, even a quill and inkwell. No instructions. They just are. He laughs at the books in front of him. Intellectual material, and he has nothing against the content, but they’re not his style. It does give away his captors. They expect him to read, enjoy, contemplate, reflect, perhaps repent. Instead he devises an escape plan. They’ve provided him the necessary tools

“Help – oh please help! Fire! Fire!” He cries at the top of his lungs. “Oh Sikkar I’m burning!”

Footsteps scramble. He hides. He smiles. The door bursts open and he hears the horrified screams of his rescuers.

“The poor faerie is burning! We have to save him!”

All eyes turned to the flaming paper dressed and folded as best as he could to look like himself, he takes the opportunity and with sore wings, zips out of the cell and slams it shut. He laughs to himself and takes off down the corridors, winding his way out. He’s been here before, his exit should be easy.

Juniper and lavender. He stops cold in his tracks.
“You…” He stops mid-sentence and flies as fast as his wings can carry him. Her… that templar… why her?

[charm]

Gim strode into the smoky bar of the Black Unicorn with a spring in his step and a whistled tune on his lips. He didn’t notice the hooded eyes that watched him from the streets. Tired, bloodshot, unrelenting. He had followed the trail for many days. He hadn’t imagined tracking down Gim would be so hard, but the little bastard was a suspicious monster.

From the rooftop he could see both the front and back entrances. No surprise that Gim didn’t trust to exit the same way he went in. He staggered out the back drunk as a fish swimming in alcohol. He didn’t mind, Gim didn’t have to be sober.

A quick flutter of wings and he was on a rooftop ahead of Gim.

“You never could hold your liquor, half-breed.”

The look of horror that fixed itself on Gim’s face was pleasing to no end. Gim turned and ran the opposite direction. He grinned. He was up for a chase – although as drunk as Gim was it wouldn’t last long. He leapt off the roof and dove at Gim, fluttering his wings to give some lift.

He slammed into Gim’s back and forced him to the ground. He grabbed Gim by his hair and slammed his face into the cobblestone street. Bone and teeth gave way. Rolled Gim over and checked his vitals. Still alive. Just unconscious. Perfect.

Daylight came and went. Nighttime returned, he entered the room he had Gim chained, neck deep in water he kept warm with the occasional fire underneath. He pulled up a stool and relit the fire. Gim woke again.

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Thanks for your concern. I’m just going to cut to the chase. Won’t take long for the water to boil, so we don’t have much time. Why was I supposed to die, and why am I still alive?”

Gim groaned painfully. “I can only answer one of those.”

“I figured. Just thought you might know who would like to keep me alive. I know who to ask to answer that question.” Prodded the fire and a flame licked up the side of the pot. “Get going Gim, I’m impatient, and I can always get Farsea.”

“All right,” the words tumbled out of swollen lips. “You’re supposed to be dead because you know the plan.”

“The unseelie-fallen alliance…”

“Yeah. We set you up. If you died while getting the intelligence, they would scrap the operation and call it quits. We reported you had failed. Nice state funeral by the way. Got the army mobilizing for a pre-emptive strike, given the generals don’t have any other intelligence”

“So I was a patsy to make it look like you did everything you could to get the information.” He smiled wryly. “I never figured you for that kind of intelligence, Gim. I’m impressed. By the Nameless One’s balls I never figured you for a double agent. Pretty impressive. Now tell me what else I want to know – and you know what I mean.”

“Yes, Farsea was in on it. She’s been a double agent almost as long as me.”

“What about the teleprot?”

“Didn’t exist. That’s how they were supposed to dispose of the body. Send you straight into a Soselian volcano.”

He nodded at Gim and stood up.

“Now what? Going to be a good boy and tell the queen?”

“Not my problem anymore. I’m just out to get what I deserve.” He kicked the stool into the fire.

“Charm! You can’t reach me without that stool, and I’m too heavy for you to lift flying.”

“I know. Have a nice bath Gim.”

[charm]

Silly selkie. Easy to dispatch. Almost felt a pang of remorse. Almost. In the end she got what was coming to her. Both traitor and murderess. Farsea always loved her fish. Wouldn’t question a free meal from a handsome suitor. Little bit of poison, a smile, removing his disguise and laughing in her face. That part of the business done.

Onward to find out what reason she had to save him. On to find what the Sikkarites have to do with the whole mess. If it was as simple as they wanted to rescue him from death – then why did they have him locked up? Why hadn’t they hired a biomancer?

No, things did not add up. They wanted to keep him weak. Maybe she knew, maybe she didn’t. He wasn’t ready to ask her. The answers might hurt too much. He did know who to ask first. Pudgy old priest. Ex-templar. Didn’t look like much. Small monastic cell, most wouldn’t even think he was anything but an ex-templar living his days out in holy solitude. Bullshit cover if ever there was one.

Silently, swiftly, shrewdly tied the old arakun’s hands, feet and tail, careful not to wake him. Breathed a sigh of relief when it was done. Now the one that would wake him, but didn’t matter if it did. Threw on the gag as fast as he could got it on, but not before the old ‘kun yelped. Quick shot to the temple and the ‘kun stopped fighting his bonds.

Hurried footsteps outside.

“Brother Alvin, are you ok?”

A quickly thrown and improvised impersonation. “I’m just fine, just knocked my table. Nothing to worry about, go back to your rest.”

It worked. Barely. He was glad he had taken time to study his cover as a bard to the point to learn their tricks. Those hesitated then retreated. He turned to the ‘kun, laid a blade against his throat.

“All right Alvin. You know who I am, I know who you really are. Let’s cut through all the posturing and get down to business.”

The ‘kun wasn’t stupid. He nodded sage agreement and the gag was removed.

“First question – why did you save me just to lock me away?”

“Because you weren’t supposed to survive. You’re a free agent now – too dangerous to be left alive.”

“Did she know?”

“No. She just reacted. Properly, for a templar, but maybe not completely so. It didn’t matter. We were trying to find a way to dispose of you, to make it look like your wounds had bested you – but you were far more resilient then we anticipated.”

He was relieved that she didn’t know. Upset that she was a pawn.

“Tell me, Alvin. How stupid is your sect? Did you think just because I’m a free agent I’ll work for whomever or give away your secrets?” He sneered. “You know I have little against Sikkarians – even if some of you will rape a virgin one day, kill ten fallen the next and call it a wash.”

The look of terror on Alvin’s face put a smile on his. “That’s right, you old ‘kun. I know all about your past – and most of the others. I could spread the word, provide proof, tear down the church – but not everyone is like you, and I’m not so quick to judge an entire group based on the actions of a few. Especially when there’s more at stake.

“You set me up Alvin. A dangerous free agent? Ha. That means you’re not the only one who’s scared. Who’s your opposite number in the fallen camp?”

Alvin clammed up. Got really scared. The wild look in the ‘kun’s eye told him he was on track. It was a wild guess that Alvin had worked with the enemy to get rid of him. Alvin spilt. Told him everything. Begged for mercy. Blitzar and Sorush had given him carte blanche running Sikkarian intelligence operations, but even they would not approve of him working with the enemy. Their wrath would be swift, terrible, horrifying, so the ‘kun told him everything.

The next step was clear. He stood up, started to leave.

“Wait! Charm… don’t tell anyone.”

He returned to the ‘kun’s side.

“Don’t worry. I’ll spare you their wrath.”

A flick of the wrist, a splash of blood, a strangled squeal. Things were no more clear then when he began… but he knew the journey would be long when he began.

[charm]

Finally talked to her. The templar he loved but could not love. He hadn’t mean to tell her of his suspicions, didn’t have the heart to tell her about Alvin. She didn’t believe what he did tell her. Was furious even. Too dogmatic. Not that he thought it was bad. Everyone needs something to believe in. He knew what it was to not have anything to believe in.

Tried to tell her to be careful. If they knew that he cared about her… they might try to hurt her. She thinks she’s untouchable. That she can always be on her guard. She is strong. She is powerful. Strong and powerful do not equal invincible. Nothing he can do but worry. But what about the answers – if they’re what he expects…

He sighed and snuck his way through the bushes and into the nearby tent. This one was going to be tough. She’s already practically dead. A kizanki. Not easily frightened. Powerful psionics. Means he only had one other option. He shuddered. Grimaced, bit his lip and entered the tent.

“Good evening, Lady Zakra,” he flourished a practiced, measured flourish. “I’ve been thinking about your offer.”

She didn’t bat an eyelash. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it.

“It’s good to see you.” A crooked smirk passed her hideous face. He repressed a shudder. She disrobed and he repressed a gag. “I’m glad you’ve reconsidered. What do you want in return?”

Shrewd. He didn’t expect anything less.

“I just want some answers.”

“I get to go first, then.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

It was worse then he could have imagined. He was going to have to spend a month bathing five times a day. She kept her end of the bargain. Told him everything. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was the truth. It was an answer. Zakra’s screams of agony as the poison worked through her system gave him a sick sense of satisfaction.

He had some answers. He had killed four conspirators. He was slowly pulling the thread – but he still wasn’t done.

[charm]

One last task. One last chore. Those were the thoughts on his mind when he entered the dim study of his target. His target, another atomy, sat with back turned to the door. Firelight gave the scene an eerie, shadowy aura.

He shuddered involuntarily, but didn’t stop. He bounded across the room with a powerful sweep of his wings to clear the desk between them and brought his fist crashing down at the base of his target’s skull. The atomy folded like a piece of paper and fell out of his chair with a thud. It wasn’t the man he was looking for.

“You’re getting sloppy.” The click of a crossbow caused him to wince. “You shouldn’t be trying to sneak in here in your condition.”

He grimaced. He was caught. So close to the end and he was caught. Caught meant dead. Caught meant he’d never get a chance to rectify any of the mistakes he’d made. Everything was over.

“Since I’m dead anyway, why don’t you fill in the missing pieces of the puzzle.”

“You know everything there is to know.”

“Standard triple cross?”

The atomy behind the crossbow nodded sagely. “It was easy enough.”

“What if I had died at the ambush?” He flipped the chair around and sat down painfully, carefully leaning forward to keep the chair from rubbing the oozing wound from the gremlin arrow. That still hadn’t healed. He moved the chair forward until his hands were hidden beneath the desk.

“Hands on the desk.” His opponent wasn’t stupid. He moved his hands on top of the desk and waited for an answer.

“If you hadn’t survived the ambush,” the atomy shrugged. “you’d be dead and unable to betray us.”

“I wouldn’t betray you.”

“If you were in my position, and your best agent submitted his resignation for no other reason than he was falling in love with a non-seelie?”

“That wasn’t my reason.”

“Right – you’re tired of all the dirty jobs and everything it’s cost you. We’ve seen you with that woman.”

He winced. That woman… her. He did love her, but duty had decided her fate for her. She may have loved him, but they couldn’t be together.

“Was that all a part of your plot?”

The evil smirk that lighted on his opponent’s face was no answer, but all the answer he received.

“I’m sure you’ve figured most of it out now. You did survive the ambush, and in your quest from answers you took care of some of three of our biggest threats. Gim and Farsea, double agents, now dead. Alvin knew too much about some of our more – questionable associations. Of course Zakra knew about our raids on Dwarven treasuries to fund our operations on Welstar.” His opponent snickered and leaned against the door frame. “You performed better than I imagined. Better than I could have hoped for. You really are the best.”

“You should know. You trained me, Uncle.”

“I’m no uncle of yours Charm. Everyone else in the family died serving her majesty – you… you gave it all up just to get out alive.”

“I thought I had a lot to live for.”

“You don’t know how hard I laughed when she was married.”

“I’m sure you did. I think you lost your mind when you lost your eye for her majesty. You’re twisted Uncle.”

The atomy cackled insanely. “I should have died. For Her Majesty. A beautiful death for duty.”

“Just one last question… was this all your idea, or did this have sanctioning from Her Majesty?”

“You were Her Majesty’s favorite. She would never have allowed such a thing. She loves you.”

“That’s what I thought. I wonder if she’ll take me back. The school will need a new Headmaster.”

“I doubt that. I’m the head of the Secret Service, and that makes me the head of the school. You know that Charm.”

“I do.” The edged playing card whistled through the air with incredible accuracy and his uncle fell with a horrifying gurgle.

It was over… and everything he had was lost. Especially her.