prologue: dice
The dice clicked across the wooden table, skipping over burned
pock-marks and landing dully in a pool of ale. Around the game, the
tavern in Damali was alive with the sounds of drinking and carousing, as
Steele's mercenaries took their leisure. From near the fire, a drunken
group broke into song. Even Elira's sharp ears couldn't make out the
slurred lyrics, though it was likely yet another about the charms of
some barmaid in some other tavern.
"I believe the game is mine, gentlemen." Elira reached out with one clawed hand and brought her winnings towards her. One man cursed and tossed her the other portion of his bet, a well-made dagger, while the other shot her a grin and turned away. Across the table, a burly man glared at the dice lying beside his mug before turning his eyes to her. She met them evenly, with a tilted head and a closed smile.
The man stood, and swayed in the motion of someone who had drank one too many tankards in the last hour. "Y'r a dir'y chea'er, y'god damn'd whore!" He moved to draw his sword from the battered sheath, but stumbled and knocked the table aside. Quick to her feet, Elira's brown eyes shone with gold in the flickering candlelight, accenting the blood red tattoo that seemed to drip from one side of her face.
The tavern feel silent, as even the drunks reacted to the tension. The barman cleared his throat to bring attention to the club he had taken from behind the bar. "That's for outside. No blood on my floors." He took a menacing step forward, and the crowd began to part.
"You heard the nice man," Elira backed away from the hulking mercenary, and drew him towards the door. Had the man been sober enough to notice, he would have seen her dark-furred ears flatten back to her hair, and her tail flicking back and forth in the dimly lit tavern, "let's go outside." As he stumbled out the door after her, muted conversations began in the tavern once more.
"Do you think we ought to help?" One of the new men in the mercenary band nervously looked around. Elira was a foot smaller, both in height and width, compared to the drunk. Wearing little but a light tunic and shorts, she was not the typical mercenary.
The man beside him, a mercenary by the name of Talis, turned and laughed. "Nah, that bugger deserves whatever he gets." Taking another slug of ale, he continued, "Fire may look small, but if you play with it, you get hurt." Talis laughed. "The same goes for Elira." He, like almost every man in Steele's mercenaries, had learned this the hard way when Elira had first wandered in to their camp and asked for a job.
Her motives were unclear at the time, but after she slaughtered the first three men who tried to take liberties with her, she was quickly accepted as one of the men. When the other option was to have your throat ripped out, or perhaps something else just as vital, it wasn't a hard decision to make. Over the fire, she'd made it known that the Myr'l, or cats, as they were called in Achryn, didn't get along with each other well, and she'd left to find a less violent group. Steele's mercenaries were tame in comparison to leaving two Myr'l clans in the same territory, she commented. The band had entered the city days before, and waited on their marching orders. Rumour held that they were to support Achryn in the war with Tyball, but Steele would tell them no more.
A scream echoed through the silence, ending in a dull gurgling.
Elira opened the tavern door and padded in, nodding an apology at the barkeep and wiping her thin sword on a carefully slashed piece of the huge mercenary's tunic. Sheathing it silently, she sat down and licked the blood off her claws. Tossing back her waist-length brown hair, she grinned and ran her tongue over her sharp teeth. "Would anyone else like to question my honesty?"
Talis shot her a grin, and started collecting her winnings from the table. "I don't think you'll get another game tonight," he commented, looking around the room at the men who were even now shying away from where she stood, "So perhaps it's time to pack up."
She laughed, a rumbling sound from deep in her chest. "You're probably right. If you'll hang on to those for me," She nodded toward the gold and silver that Talis was using to fill his carry-sack, "I still have one more game to play tonight."
Hefting the sack over his shoulder, Talis watched Elira's smooth movements as she slung her sword belt over her shoulder and walked out of the tavern without a word. Smiling and shaking his head, he turned back to his ale and the knowledge that his cup would be full all evening.
The night was cool, but pleasant through Elira's hair. It almost erased the smell of ale and men from her fur, for which she was grateful. Sad to lose the night breeze, she wrapped a cloak around herself, covering her tail and ears from view. Having them visible would do no good in this game. For this, she needed to look like prey for the darker sides of the street. Damali was not a bad city, all things considered, but even the best of cities had streets where no one who knew the place dared walk.
Elira turned down an unlit street. There was a sliver of moon visible through the hazy sky, but it was more than enough for her heightened eyesight. Her ears, though confined in the cloth of her hood, picked up snatches of conversation from farther down the alleyway.
"C'mon, just one more tonight. Then we've got bragging rights for sure."
"Look, I told you, I'm not getting involved."
"But check this one out. She's tiny, doesn't know a thing about being out at night."
The three voices faded down as she continued her steady approach. She kept her head down, avoiding letting the moonlight glint from her eyes. That would end the game right there. It used to be that this was easier for her, but since then she'd become known by these night crawlers. She smiled a tight smile to herself. What good was a game if it didn't challenge you as you played more?
"Stop right there, lady!" The first voice she had heard presented itself with a flourish. He seemed young, but Elira still couldn't get used to how long it took for these humans to mature. He brandished a poorly-made blade in her direction as he stepped out from the shadows. "If'n you want to keep your life, you'd best give us your valu-a-buls."
She closed her eyes, giving silent laughter at his use of a word he may or may not have known the previous day. A noise behind her told her where her second assailant was, and a dull smacking sound warned her that he was wielding one of the skull-breaking clubs that the dark side of the streets favoured. Only two of them this time. Elira found herself disappointed. Surely after the last few times, they should have increased their numbers? She mentally shrugged. Perhaps they didn't learn quickly, these humans.
The would be thieves advanced on her. "C'mon, lady. You won't survive a fight with us, just take off your jewel'ry and we'll let you go." The larger one, behind her, still said nothing. She waited until they were both a step closer before moving her hands to her neck. Elira couldn't speak to them, her voice sounded wrong in this foreign tongue.
"That's a good gi- Sweet Ilithya!" The thief froze as Elira dropped her cloak. Drawing her blade, she landed a kick squarely into the gut of the man beside her, before he could move. Turning, she slammed her knee into his face as he doubled over in surprise. From the shadows, the third speaker from her overheard conversation ran in and stood protectively in front of the fallen man, dagger drawn.
She smiled openly, sharp teeth giving her a devilish expression in the moonlit alley. "So, you've heard of me?" She purred the question as they nervously circled her. "Then here's today's hint. Don't challenge someone you can't beat."
The thief who had so brazenly asked for her money took a shaky stab at her, which she parried. Sensing his confusion, she accepted the opening and ran her blade through his neck. A quick kill. He was weak, she thought to herself. Spinning, she clashed her long blade with the short dagger of the man behind her. He looked at her and the bodies with wild eyes as he accumulated more slashes on his body from her quick blade. Elira disarmed him leaving claw marks on his arms and face when he attacked her again. When he finally sagged back, she wiped her blade off and sheathed it.
"You did nothing wrong except for trying to protect men who were already dead. Go." She hissed at him. As he limped away from the scene, she removed purses from the other two men and smiled to herself. "And gentlemen, this match is mine."
Picking up her cloak, she walked back into the night.
"I believe the game is mine, gentlemen." Elira reached out with one clawed hand and brought her winnings towards her. One man cursed and tossed her the other portion of his bet, a well-made dagger, while the other shot her a grin and turned away. Across the table, a burly man glared at the dice lying beside his mug before turning his eyes to her. She met them evenly, with a tilted head and a closed smile.
The man stood, and swayed in the motion of someone who had drank one too many tankards in the last hour. "Y'r a dir'y chea'er, y'god damn'd whore!" He moved to draw his sword from the battered sheath, but stumbled and knocked the table aside. Quick to her feet, Elira's brown eyes shone with gold in the flickering candlelight, accenting the blood red tattoo that seemed to drip from one side of her face.
The tavern feel silent, as even the drunks reacted to the tension. The barman cleared his throat to bring attention to the club he had taken from behind the bar. "That's for outside. No blood on my floors." He took a menacing step forward, and the crowd began to part.
"You heard the nice man," Elira backed away from the hulking mercenary, and drew him towards the door. Had the man been sober enough to notice, he would have seen her dark-furred ears flatten back to her hair, and her tail flicking back and forth in the dimly lit tavern, "let's go outside." As he stumbled out the door after her, muted conversations began in the tavern once more.
"Do you think we ought to help?" One of the new men in the mercenary band nervously looked around. Elira was a foot smaller, both in height and width, compared to the drunk. Wearing little but a light tunic and shorts, she was not the typical mercenary.
The man beside him, a mercenary by the name of Talis, turned and laughed. "Nah, that bugger deserves whatever he gets." Taking another slug of ale, he continued, "Fire may look small, but if you play with it, you get hurt." Talis laughed. "The same goes for Elira." He, like almost every man in Steele's mercenaries, had learned this the hard way when Elira had first wandered in to their camp and asked for a job.
Her motives were unclear at the time, but after she slaughtered the first three men who tried to take liberties with her, she was quickly accepted as one of the men. When the other option was to have your throat ripped out, or perhaps something else just as vital, it wasn't a hard decision to make. Over the fire, she'd made it known that the Myr'l, or cats, as they were called in Achryn, didn't get along with each other well, and she'd left to find a less violent group. Steele's mercenaries were tame in comparison to leaving two Myr'l clans in the same territory, she commented. The band had entered the city days before, and waited on their marching orders. Rumour held that they were to support Achryn in the war with Tyball, but Steele would tell them no more.
A scream echoed through the silence, ending in a dull gurgling.
Elira opened the tavern door and padded in, nodding an apology at the barkeep and wiping her thin sword on a carefully slashed piece of the huge mercenary's tunic. Sheathing it silently, she sat down and licked the blood off her claws. Tossing back her waist-length brown hair, she grinned and ran her tongue over her sharp teeth. "Would anyone else like to question my honesty?"
Talis shot her a grin, and started collecting her winnings from the table. "I don't think you'll get another game tonight," he commented, looking around the room at the men who were even now shying away from where she stood, "So perhaps it's time to pack up."
She laughed, a rumbling sound from deep in her chest. "You're probably right. If you'll hang on to those for me," She nodded toward the gold and silver that Talis was using to fill his carry-sack, "I still have one more game to play tonight."
Hefting the sack over his shoulder, Talis watched Elira's smooth movements as she slung her sword belt over her shoulder and walked out of the tavern without a word. Smiling and shaking his head, he turned back to his ale and the knowledge that his cup would be full all evening.
The night was cool, but pleasant through Elira's hair. It almost erased the smell of ale and men from her fur, for which she was grateful. Sad to lose the night breeze, she wrapped a cloak around herself, covering her tail and ears from view. Having them visible would do no good in this game. For this, she needed to look like prey for the darker sides of the street. Damali was not a bad city, all things considered, but even the best of cities had streets where no one who knew the place dared walk.
Elira turned down an unlit street. There was a sliver of moon visible through the hazy sky, but it was more than enough for her heightened eyesight. Her ears, though confined in the cloth of her hood, picked up snatches of conversation from farther down the alleyway.
"C'mon, just one more tonight. Then we've got bragging rights for sure."
"Look, I told you, I'm not getting involved."
"But check this one out. She's tiny, doesn't know a thing about being out at night."
The three voices faded down as she continued her steady approach. She kept her head down, avoiding letting the moonlight glint from her eyes. That would end the game right there. It used to be that this was easier for her, but since then she'd become known by these night crawlers. She smiled a tight smile to herself. What good was a game if it didn't challenge you as you played more?
"Stop right there, lady!" The first voice she had heard presented itself with a flourish. He seemed young, but Elira still couldn't get used to how long it took for these humans to mature. He brandished a poorly-made blade in her direction as he stepped out from the shadows. "If'n you want to keep your life, you'd best give us your valu-a-buls."
She closed her eyes, giving silent laughter at his use of a word he may or may not have known the previous day. A noise behind her told her where her second assailant was, and a dull smacking sound warned her that he was wielding one of the skull-breaking clubs that the dark side of the streets favoured. Only two of them this time. Elira found herself disappointed. Surely after the last few times, they should have increased their numbers? She mentally shrugged. Perhaps they didn't learn quickly, these humans.
The would be thieves advanced on her. "C'mon, lady. You won't survive a fight with us, just take off your jewel'ry and we'll let you go." The larger one, behind her, still said nothing. She waited until they were both a step closer before moving her hands to her neck. Elira couldn't speak to them, her voice sounded wrong in this foreign tongue.
"That's a good gi- Sweet Ilithya!" The thief froze as Elira dropped her cloak. Drawing her blade, she landed a kick squarely into the gut of the man beside her, before he could move. Turning, she slammed her knee into his face as he doubled over in surprise. From the shadows, the third speaker from her overheard conversation ran in and stood protectively in front of the fallen man, dagger drawn.
She smiled openly, sharp teeth giving her a devilish expression in the moonlit alley. "So, you've heard of me?" She purred the question as they nervously circled her. "Then here's today's hint. Don't challenge someone you can't beat."
The thief who had so brazenly asked for her money took a shaky stab at her, which she parried. Sensing his confusion, she accepted the opening and ran her blade through his neck. A quick kill. He was weak, she thought to herself. Spinning, she clashed her long blade with the short dagger of the man behind her. He looked at her and the bodies with wild eyes as he accumulated more slashes on his body from her quick blade. Elira disarmed him leaving claw marks on his arms and face when he attacked her again. When he finally sagged back, she wiped her blade off and sheathed it.
"You did nothing wrong except for trying to protect men who were already dead. Go." She hissed at him. As he limped away from the scene, she removed purses from the other two men and smiled to herself. "And gentlemen, this match is mine."
Picking up her cloak, she walked back into the night.