“She’s a fine little thing. Hold on to her,” suggested Aireys wryly.
“Wonderful for overcoming a tragic loss no doubt and she brings booze. I think you should marry her,” muttered Emir.
Quig shrugged and eyed his friends carefully. “Last thing I’ll ever do is take advice from either one of you. Especially in affairs of the heart,” he said.
“What does that mean?” asked Emir, slurring his words.
Aireys said nothing. Her thoughts were elsewhere. To be precise they were in a place where precarious plans were born.
Lara appeared at the table with her finest choice of sine and a few glasses. With the skill of a girl who was fearful that her parents, who were also her employers, might see her misstep, she took payment swiftly and gifted her beloved Quig a delicate kiss, before disappearing back into the crowd to address aggrieved patrons of delays and such. Something about the festival made people act impulsively; it was something enchanting. Maybe it was something in the water. Probably the alcohol.
“It looks like love,” mocked Aireys as she dealt out the new hands.
“Better me than him,” laughed Quig, nodding towards the grand champion who was currently pushing away one of his followers with the pointed end of his prize. This caused more of his comrades to cheer loudly than ever.
“I’ll drink to that,” declared Emir, and with glass in hand drank to that.
The band kicked in with the same song they had heard upon arriving. Erroh found himself singing along to the tale of a wronged prisoner who wouldn’t give ground regardless of the beatings he received at the hands of his jailers. His mother had taught him the song many years ago. Wars came and went in all regions but the great songs were universal. One of the musicians sang the words and by the fourth line, most of the crowd were singing along. It was enough to raise any spirits. It was a grand call to arms.
Lea would happily admit that her reckless play was creating a very healthy and stable economy at the table. She didn’t lose every hand she played but it felt as much. Not that she minded in the slightest as it was her debut as a card player and she loved every loosely betted second of it. He merely liked the sport of it and tonight he was playing his finest just to keep her in the game. Such thoughtfulness was not lost on her. She loved cards and she loved being in love. As the night drew late Lea spoke words of the road. Words involving abandoned towns and graves among a valley of heather. She’d earned the right to tell the story and Erroh only added a few points to her tale of caution. If the mayor of Keri was disinterested in dangers, they would spread the word at the source, but to their joint surprise, their new companions shared the same ignorance. Keri would remain untroubled. Growing up hidden beneath the mountains left a certain complacency that was only attained when living in a time of peace. Their new friends were sympathetic but resolute in their words and knowing it was futile to argue any further Lea excused herself and shared a few hushed words with Lara before disappearing upstairs to one of the many available guest rooms with her bag. When she re-emerged a little time later, she silenced the entire room.
“A goddess,” whispered Emir suddenly and covered his mouth for speaking out of turn. He tried not to leer at the figure standing above them at the top of the stairs but he couldn’t help himself. He was but a lowerline and she, well she was something else entirely.
“Wow,” gasped Quig and dared a wink at Erroh who had not seen her yet.
The band finished the last note of a ballad. There was no applause or drunken heckles as a stillness filled the room. Those who saw her first fell silent and the silence was infectious. It spread out through the aisles. A few females stared in mild disapproval but even they begrudgingly admitted that she was a sight and she looked like she belonged in the city.
Lea wore her yellow dress of silk and she wore it well. Erroh turned in his seat and immediately thanked the gods she had insisted she keep such an extravagant garment on that sunny day at the city a lifetime ago. The band began a delicate melody in time with each step she took as though they were hired in her honour, and Erroh’s heart skipped a beat of his own. She looked more like the Lea of the Spark than the incredible wanderer of the road he knew so well, but this was no terrible thing. Her lips were a richer red than ever, her smile was for him and him alone, and Erroh smiled in return. Her hair was expertly pinned and tied up without a strand out of place, he found himself running his hands through his own scruffy locks, and he felt underdressed for a night of cards, laughter, and drunkenness.
The world seemed to hold its breath as two sets of Alphaline eyes met each other and the Puk’s magic took hold.
If she realised the silent stir she had caused, she never let on as her graceful feet touched the bottom step and glided across the room towards Erroh. Every reveller parted way for her and when she took her seat at the table, the room finally took a breath and returned to their merriment. The moment had passed.
He dared to kiss her cheek. A fine manoeuvre after such lengths she had gone through to present herself. Her wonderful perfume stirred his senses and he desperately wanted to take her in his arms and beg release from his oath. “You look incredible,” he whispered. Words didn’t do her justice, so he stared at her for a little longer.
“Maybe I’ll meet a nice young farmer boy in here,” she said mischievously but her eyes were wide open and only for him.
“Or maybe a nice young doctor,” said Emir shrugging before dealing the next hand. Aireys reached across and punched his shoulder. Enough to bruise. Enough to remind him of his place in the world. Enough to make herself feel better.
“You keep with those comments Emir and our new friend Erroh is likely to take umbrage,” Quig said sniggering.
“We’re all friends here,” laughed Erroh, and tore his eyes away from his goddess as she opened the betting feebly. Staying out until dawn to win a few meagre hands was looking less appealing than before.
From across the room the blonde figure of Stefan the grand champion of Keri sat in silence as his friends and fans celebrated all around him. He couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty in the yellow gown of silk. He thought she was even more alluring than Aireys. What was her name again? It was a small matter, as was charming her away from the little skut of a companion lucky enough to have her eye. Charm her for a night and let her limp home to her forgiving and grateful lover come the morning. He liked to think it was a kindness helping a young couple through troubled waters and when he felt like it, he was capable of stirring a fine brew of trouble. What didn’t kill could only make stronger. This didn’t make him a bad person. It just made him a man and as a man, women were so very enthralling. He glanced at the table and the many females smiling, laughing and playing up to him. He knew they saw him as little more than a prize and that was fine by him at least for now. Perhaps he would know love someday. His eyes flickered to Aireys. She was different to most but all she ever caused him was annoyance and pain. Love hurt, so they said. Ha, he had little interest in things like that but if Aireys came and sat at his table again, he would gladly pay for the meal. If for no more reason than seeing Emir’s pathetic face. The girl in yellow laughed at something stupid her companion said and he wondered just how long it would take to remove her clothing.
Lea reached across and claimed her third winnings of the night. She sipped her sine carefully and found herself swaying with the music as the next hand was dealt. She thought the couples on the dance floor seemed to be having so much fun but Erroh would be disinclined to embarrass himself. She couldn’t dance either but sometimes that didn’t matter. She looked at her losing hand, added a few more pieces to the bet, and felt just fine about herself as someone matched it. She caught a glance of herself in the far mirror and smiled. His reaction pleased her greatly. Aye, out on the road every time she caught him gazing lustfully at her in her finest armour with muddy blotches across her face she smiled, but sometimes it was nice to remember what it felt like to be delicate, graceful and feminine. Dancing wou
ld be magnificent but to sit and feel wanted was more than enough. Then he surprised her.
“May I have this dance my beo?” Erroh asked, and she leapt from her seat as he took her hand and led her through the crowd out onto the polished wood of the dance floor.
They weren’t terribly skilled in the art of dancing but after a few loose steps, they stopped noticing the stares. They spun gracelessly and fought many stumbles all the while laughing and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes. Eventually when they felt as if they’d sparred for hours without respite Erroh kissed her hand gently and turned to lead her back to their seats where Emir stepped forward and took her hand.
“I wish to steal Lea’s heart,” he joked. He’d have asked Aireys but she was likely to break him in half were he to suggest it, let alone step on her toes. That said perhaps after dancing with Lea, Aireys might warm to such a suggestion. It was a simple plan and Stefan ruined it because Stefan ruined nearly everything for Emir. Some might argue it was the other way round though. They weren’t long into their own clumsy manoeuvre before the champion of Keri walked from his balcony down to the dance floor.
Emir laughed as he attempted another twirl, which ended with him careening into another dancer. Lea laughed with him and for the briefest moment Emir forgot about his bitterness for the world. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was a forceful, sweaty grip and it stole away the good cheer.
“It’s my turn with this ravishing beauty,” Stefan said smoothly and pushed the drunken healer to the side. Emir muttered a curse and his hand fell to an empty mug at a nearby table. Around them, Stefan’s comrades took to the floor with their own partners.
“Fuk off Stefan,” growled Emir.
“Watch your silver tongue my friend or I’ll cut it out with my gold,” replied Stefan coldly and grabbed Lea’s arm firmly enough to stop her fleeing the dance floor.
Erroh hopped off his chair to rescue his damsel when Aireys stopped him.
“The champion is permitted to dance with anyone he chooses. Best you sit this one out, hero,” she said gently.
“He would be wise to handle her with more grace,” warned Erroh gruffly knowing that Aireys was right. He was supposed to be a simple wanderer of the road and not a fierce Alphaline protecting his mate.
“I would imagine she is the type of female who can handle herself. Besides, it’s only a dance,” Quig said calmly, though he watched Emir for signs of trouble. There was no need as the dejected figure of the drunken healer returned to the table leaving the empty glass behind.
“If it’s your right to claim a dance then who am I to argue?” Lea said. She thought him attractive enough but his hair was too neat and sleek, his features were too sharp and his eyes were a little cruel. He was a boy pretending to be a man. She glanced at Erroh and smirked. Erroh was a real man, though he did his best to behave as anything but. It was only a dance and it would be fun to tease him about it later.
“I shall lead you my dear,” Stefan whispered. The music began and he pulled her a little too close. Holding her hand tightly he took her waist and swayed across the room as if she was nothing but a little waif in his hands. Admittedly, he could dance well enough that she found herself gliding across the floor answering each move with his subtle suggestion. A turn, a step, and a pirouette he moved her gracefully. The music rose and he pulled her tighter as lovers did. What's more, she allowed him.
“Is this dance nearly over?” Erroh asked nobody in particular at the table.
“Not for a while. We could play a hand,” said Aireys calmly.
“He seems to be enjoying her,” said Emir, ever the man to stir a brew of trouble. Aireys looked to the gods.
“Are there any other ‘entitlements’?” Erroh said coldly. His fingers were shaking and his mind was preparing for war.
“Well the dance thing you know already. I’m sure there are other nasty things. He is the grand champion,” said Emir.
“Free drinks,” said Quig, glaring at his best friend.
“That’s about it,” said Aireys, ever the calming politician.
“Look at the leer on his face. I wouldn’t like my wife in his arms,” muttered Emir helpfully.
After spinning her, Stefan suddenly dragged the goddess back to him and leaned in for a kiss but she slipped away from his grasp before he had the opportunity. She smiled slyly as she did and Stefan wanted her even more.
“I look forward to getting to know you a little better,” he said and took her hand. It was calloused and firm and somehow, this made her more enthralling.
“You will know me for this dance only,” she replied playfully.
“Then may I take you someplace else to dance?” he said and kissed her hand.
“That’s appalling behaviour,” slurred a very drunken Emir shaking his head. He was having a fine time tormenting his new friend.
Quig leaned forward.
“So tell me Emir. How would you feel if he still danced with Aireys like that?” he asked, ever the witty fuker. Aireys punched Quig in the arm. It was a fine strike, hard enough to silence the great oaf before he said more and ruined everything. The big man grinned sheepishly. The damage was done and in truth, somebody had to say something some time.
“What does that mean?” Emir hissed though his face was a little red. Maybe it was the drink.
“This dance is over, champion,” Lea said as the last note rung out and the crowd applauded and called for the next.
“So will we continue this dance somewhere else?” he said and swiftly reached down and grabbed her rear and pulled her against him grinning. A fine technique used by a moron whose understanding of females was grossly overrated.
She struck him across the face fiercely. The crack echoed across the room and the shocked champion released his grip and stepped back in bewilderment. Pretty lady had quite a sting. He tried to laugh it off but she slipped away from the dancefloor leaving him to face his friends’ shocked expressions. Bewilderment turned to fury. How dare she embarrass him this way?
Erroh’s mind was calm. It was quite simple. He was going to kill him. He leapt from his seat swiftly but was intercepted by Lea before he reached the dance floor. She placed her hands across his chest and shook her head. “This is not the place to lose your temper my beo. It’s only you who gets to take me home tonight,” she said pulling him back towards the table.
“Very well keep the whore then,” shouted Stefan, laughing, and the room took sudden notice. Curious eyes from all corners of the room watched as events took shape. Wonderful and violent events no doubt. There was danger in the air. It wouldn’t be Puk without a bit of danger.
One, two, three thought Erroh in his mind.
“The price to lie with her is far too steep anyway,” Stefan added taking delight in the audience.
Four, five, six.
“There wasn’t nearly enough meat to grab on to,” he shouted loud enough that the entire tavern fell silent for the second and last time that evening. His friends sniggered. A few nodded in agreement.
Seven, eight, nine.
“Do what you must Erroh,” whispered Lea. Her face was red. Her hand squeezed his tightly. She was right to be angry. Her rear was a thing of beauty.
Ten, eleven, ah fuk him.
Erroh released himself from her hold and wobbled drunkenly back to the dance floor looking about as threatening as a pigeon. Stefan sensing little danger grinned and swatted away the lazy left fist thrown his way. “Ha,” he managed to cry out triumphantly, before the real strike, a furious right jab sent him flying backwards.
Then the real drama of the night began.
Good Night at the Sickle
Stefan was pulled to his feet by his friends. His eyes were dazed and his face was a ruin of blood, mucus, and tears. They held him steady until he regained balance. It was only a slight concussion. Emir and Quig swiftly appeared at Erroh’s side as the crowd of Stefan’s followers surrounded them. Quig dared any to strike out next with a dangerous gla
re while Emir helped matters by laughing obnoxiously at Stefan’s wounds. Erroh pulled out the tooth embedded between two of his knuckles and rolled it in his fingers. He thought about giving it back to him. Throwing it away seemed like a terribly rude thing to do.
“I’ll kill you and your stupid whore,” roared the champion, spitting blood and wiping his eyes to clear the dizziness. Erroh dropped the tooth on the floor as both groups exchanged verbal blows.
“Calm down Stefan, you were out of line,” warned Quig and stepped in between both factions with his arms raised to calm the storm.
“He was attacked without provocation,” one female shrieked.
“Give us a smile,” jested Emir. Someone shouted at him to shut his mouth. It may have been Aireys as she too stepped into the crowd to avoid a fight.
More exchanges were thrown back and forth until a fine golden blade appeared in the hands of the champion and the crowd separated immediately. Aireys pulled Emir to the side away from pointy objects lest he stir even more. Lea stayed with Erroh. Her heart was racing and she watched the champion raise his golden blade menacingly. Without taking his eyes off the golden sword, Erroh gently eased her back to the safety of one of the tables. “This is a small matter,” he said calmly. If he was scared, he showed nothing. Perhaps a blade in his face was a regular occurrence in taverns.
Only Quig stepped forward. “You need to catch yourself right fuken now Stefan,” he warned, keeping his massive frame between the two aggressors. He didn’t need to.
Erroh skipped away from Stefan towards the massive burning hearth in the corner. A fine technique if one was suffering the cold of the changing season. He knew he needed to be careful. If he took a misstep, he was likely to kill the pompous fool.
Spark City Page 28
