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Internet Message Format | 1994-07-28 | 12KB

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From: Jeff Scott Franzmann <[e-mail]>
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives
Subject: STORY: Not a Tear
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Date: 27 Jul 1994 15:19:19 -0400
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        "Long ages past the world was young,
         songs voiced cross greener lands,
         the morning's daughter took to sky,
         and left her mothers hands,
         And there she waits, Anariel
         Upon the windswept shore,
         Voicing loss and ended love,
         Macrimmon comes no more."
                    -Cha Til Macruimen

    Travelling in the dark cloak of night, the rider thundered along
the trail. Urgency within every step, he drove the beast far beyond it's
capabilities. There was little choice, however, as the news he bore
wouldn't wait even for the time it would take to feed the beast.
    Silhoutted against the night sky, the tower presented a stark
contrast to the fields of moonlit barley and rye surrounding it. The horse
collapsed even as it's master dismounted, and expired there before the
tower door, lathered and spent. Hardly taking notice, the messenger
entered his masters lair.

    A fire glowed within chamber, filling the area with a rich light.
Nothing could dispell the aura of fear which permeated the tower, though,
and the messenger shivered as he dropped to one knee. The man sitting
before the fire barely noticed, but nodded, granting his servant
permission to speak.
    "My liege ... the lady has given birth, and you have an heir ... I
fear, however ..."
    The man lit a pipe and took a long draw upon it,"She did not
survive the birth".
    "No, dread lord".
    Rising from the chair, the man grasped the amulet around his neck.
He gazed at the fire for what seemed an eternity, the messenger sweating
profusely all the while.
    "I have no heir ... do you understand?"
    "My liege?"
    "Have the child drowned".
    Nodding his assent, the messenger rose to leave.
    "And try not to kill my horse this time".

                *  *  *

    The streets of Argive were awash in a sea of humanity. Peddlers,
beggars, tinkers and whores shouted and jostled each other, each and every
one seeking the best target for their particular wares. Wading through it
all, pickpockets plied their own trade, and the curses of their victim
rose above the general din and confusion. The Festival of the Artificers
was an event of nearly global reknown.
    The young boy made his way through the crowd, clad in dirty rags,
his feet bound in canvas sacking. He was unremarkable in every way, his
appearance the same as that of every other urchin within a hundred yards.
The jangling purse at his side indicated, however, that his thieving
skills were more pronounced than most.
    "Eh! Boy! Come back here!"
    Wielding a cleaver, a fat merchant ran from behind his stall and
began chasing the boy. Perhaps his skills as a pickpocket weren't as
advanced as they had appeared...
    Grabbing a ham from a butchers stall, the child ran through the
crowd, ducking beneath the legs of a hulking blacksmith and diving beneath
a stall selling trinkets and useless bric-a-brac. The merchant was with
him almost the entire way, though he was forced to bowl right over the
blacksmith.
    The child reached the gate to the old city, and there the two
Argivian guards would have stopped him. The boy tossed the ham high into
the air towards the closest guard. Dropping his spear and catching the
ham, the guard watched helplessly as the youth dove between his legs,
rolled, and made his way into the twisted lanes and alleys of the old city.

    "Nice try, Canty."
    Wiping the sweat from his brow, the boy tossed a few coins to the
well dressed whore who stood over him. She smiled as she pocketed the
change, and put her finger under his chin.
    "You're cute when your scared, you know that?"
    "Jana, go away. And don't call me Canty, that's not my name..."
    The child folded his arms defiantly and pouted. He beat his feet
against the barrel upon which he sat. Smiling, the raven haired woman gave
hima kiss on the forehead. She twirled around, letting the rings of silver
and brass which adorned her brightly coloured dress jangle seductively.
    "Whaddaya think Canty? I've got a meeting tonight with one of the
Warlords... and he pays well. Or so they tell me..."
    Pouting, the boy looked towards Jana, frowning.
    "Guess I'll have to stay away tonight..."
    Jana's cheery expression faded as the boy sulked.
    "Cernwin, I'm sorry...I need the money..."
    Running his fingers through his black hair, the boy shook his
head. Jana only used his given name when she was serious.
    "Yeah, whatever. I'll come by after the bells ring Matins at the
Temple...I'm sure you'll be finished by then..."
    Cernwin jumped from the barrel and ran down the street. Not
looking back. Jana simply looked at her feet.

                *  *  *

    The common room of the Silver Cup was crowded and smokey. Patrons
slumped over tables and sat in the corners, muttering to themselves in
drunken hallucinations. Cernwin came in from the streets outside even as
the last bell of Matins echoed across the increasingly empty streets of
Argive.
    Slipping behind a curtain near the bar, he made his way up to the
room which he shared with Jana. Neither one of them made enough to afford
such accomidations on their own, so they worked out a deal. Cernwin stole
what food and money he could, while Jana worked for the remainder. In the
end, they both ended up fed and sheltered.
    Slipping into the darkened confines of their shared room, Cernwin
shut the door noiselessly behind him. Long used to the hours past
daylight, he made his way effortlessly to the corner of the room where
Jana always had her 'customers' place their belongings. Rich silk
clothing, black in colour, and expensive beyond anything Cernwin had ever
felt. Riding boots, of a quality unseen by his young eyes. And a satchel.
    Quitely, the youth opened the satchel and rifled around inside. A
book..useless indeed since the boy couldn't read. Several bits and pieces
of a truly worthless nature...twine, lengths of string, some rocks.
Finally, after what seemed forever, Cernwin's hands fell upon a smooth,
cool surface. Pulling the object from the satchel, he gazed upon an inky
black jewel of obvious value. He pocketed it quickly and made his way over
to the large bed.
    Jana lay on her stomach, asleep. The man next to her was snoring
peacefully, oblivious to the presence of the youth. Cernwin and Jana had
practised this routine time and again ... on his signal, Jana would awake
with a scream, and point to the open window. Upon waking, her customer
would inquire as to the problem. And Jana would weave a tale about how a n
intruder had just left through the window.
    Cernwin grew impatient as Jana continued to sleep, despite his
increasingly insistent pokes. Finally, he gave her a tremendous tug on the
arm. Her lifeless body rolled from the bed, and dropped to the floor with
a heavy thud. Her vacant stare held Cernwin within it's grasp for too long
... the man on the bed awoke with a start. The youth had time only to
scream before the man leapt to his feet.
    "Foolish child! For this, you shall join the bitch..."
    Cerwin backed up towards the window, his eyes filling with tears.
This made no sense. He didn't know the man ... Jana didn't know the man.
Why had he done this?
    QUickly donning his robes and boots, the man never took his eyes
off the boy. His hair, steel grey and cropped short in the fashion of a
military man, seemed to crackle with energy. He threw the satchel over his
shoulder, and uttered a few quick phrases, motioning with his hands as he
did so.
    Cernwin was out the window and on the street running before the
man could complete another pass with his hands.

    "By the dark eyes of Mishra..."
    Cernwin ran for all he was worth through the alleys and lanes. The
maze which was the old city seemed not to matter at all to his pursuers.
The insane laughter which dogged the boy's every footstep seemd nearly at
his very feet, but he dared not look back. He knew that behind him was a
veritable horde of laughing, cackling creatures of the night, covered with
fur and with dangling limbs. Their bulbous eyes bored through him with
their every glance, and he knew that they would take from him his life.
    The sewer grate wouldn't stop them for long, he knew it. Perhaps,
though, if he could hide within the marshes, they would cease their search
for him. Perhaps they wouldn't be able to track him through the fetid
stink. Perhaps they would return to their dark master empty handed.
Perhaps the moon would fall from the sky.
    The grate dropped into the sewer with a painfully loud clang, and
Cernwin practically flew down the length of the tunnel. Ignoring the
stench, and the foul things which drifted past, he concentrated only on
reaching the marshes and the safety he desperately hoped they could offer.
His left hand gripped the gem he had stolen so hard that his knuckles
looked to be drained of blood. And still he ran.
    So intent was he on his flight, Cernwin didn't even notice when
the tunnel ended and the sewer emptied into the marshes outside the city.
He was up to his neck in the foul filth before he even realized what had
happend. Above and behind him, the sounds of his deranged pursuers grew
ever louder. Wading through the muck and slime, his hand still gripping
the gem firmly, he scrambled atop a stand of reeds and marsh grass, and
fled into the darkness.

    It had seemed hours since he had left the sewer behind, though it
couldn't have been more than ten minutes. Clouds of insects took bites at
every exposed portion of his body. The smell of overpowering. And his legs
could carry him no further. Cernwin could only watch in tears as the first
fuzzy beast crawled over the rotten log and stared at him with baleful
eyes. The beast smiled, and pulled at the edges of it's mouth with it's
fingers, sticking it's tongue out at the frightened child.
    "Booga booga booga!"
    The beast did a backflip into a pool of mud, and disappeared. Half
a dozen more of the furry atrocities bounded over the log, and began
dancing around Cernwin, cackling and giggling all the while. Shutting his
eyes, and bringing to mind the image of Jana, he prepared to join her in
eternal sleep.
    Howls of pain and anguish erupted from all around Cernwin, and in
confusion, he opened his eyes. All around him, the fuzzy little beasts
were writhing in agony, small wisps of smoke rising from their tiny,
deformed bodies. The smoke was inching along the ground towards Cernwin.
Shocked, he looked at the gem within his hand, and at the marsh around
him...the gem glowed in a most disturbing fashion, a black gleam which
seemed wholly unnatural. At his feet, the ground seemed to be pouring
forth it's very essence into his body. And the bodies of the gremlins
twitched and lay still. When the last wisp of smoke had crawled up his
body and disappeared, Cernwin felt better than he had in weeks. His
weariness had disappeared, the weak feeling within his legs had fled ...
and he felt a sense of purpose that he hadn't known in years.
    "What..."
    Shaking his head, Cernwin let a smile creep onto his face. Jana
had told him stories, about how the great Warlords and Magi had often
emerged from the humblest of beginnings and from the worst of
circumstances. A tear came to his eye when he realized she would never
tell him such stories again. Yet still he smiled.
    Walking back towards Argive, Cernwin didn't stop smiling for a
minute. He swore he would never shed a tear again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
All contents of the above are (c) 1994 Jeff Franzmann except Mishra and
Argive, which are the propery of WotC.

Comments, criticisms and suggestions more than welcome, and should be
directed to me at [e-mail]
Let me know what you think :)