In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  “Are ye fading on me, M’ Lord?!” One of Merial’s eyes wide open, the other almost completely shut. Her body wavered and swayed, elbows propped on the table with her right hand gripping her mug. She struggled and took a breath, but brought it to her mouth before slamming it back down, a small amount splashing out. She blinked long and hard but her one eye shot open again while her hand went to her mouth, wiping it quickly before she leaned forward.

  “Never…Enchantress!” Javal looked even more inebriated than she and he gripped the table in an effort to keep himself from falling over, seeming to forget the tiny structure would not hold the weight of such a massive dwarf. If he were to go, he would take the entire thing down with him. “How…” he muttered, staring at her intently, a part of him was impressed and another part completely shocked that she had lasted this long. “You can’t hold on…much longer,” he muttered again, knowing full well he couldn’t either.

  “Drink!” she hollered, a laugh tumbling out of her mouth as her eyes tried their best to narrow. “Or do ye yield?” She toyed, mocking him.

  “Ha!” That was enough to inspire courage and the King drank, though not nearly as hard.

  It was the same, just as it had been for the past three hours, Jeralyle watched the entire event—unblinking through most of it—utterly surprised at the young woman’s resolve. Sharing his amazement were Gort, Ristalln, and Gnert—though not a one of them could even garner a guess as to how.

  Merial, slid her hand along the table and leaned forward. “Javal,” she whispered, but the King’s glossy eyes didn’t fall on her. “Javal!” she giggled and knocked on the wood. “Let’sss up the anti, eh?” she slurred as soon as his muddled gaze met hers.

  “What…hic…what do ya have in mind?” Javal did his best to stay strong, sticking out his chest and sitting up as straight as possible, but another hiccup seemed to remove all energy from him and he slumped back down a moment later.

  “This…” Merial said with a wink as she leaned in, her dainty fingers clumsily finding their way into her bag. From it, she pulled a tiny pouch of coins and tossed it on the table, a rather loud clank sounded in the room, bolting the two combatants back to reality.

  “Ha… alright, Temptress. Ye win. I’ll double that. Now…drink!”

  Merial flashed him the biggest grin she could manage, and in a fit of pride and competition she drank again. Without a second thought she emptied her mug. Javal’s eyes widened and he leaned, waiting for the fall—but it never came. Merial only burped, took a deep breath and growled.

  “This is impossible…”

  “Is it…?”

  “Aye. Dwarves twice yer size, drink half…hic…as less.”

  Merial giggled and crept forward, her elbow propped on the table and her knuckles facing him. Her brown hair fell down about her shoulders as one finger rose from her hand, beckoning the dwarf to draw close. Javal did so and Merial whispered, though it was loud enough for everyone to hear, “I’m…magick…” her face erupted in a smile as she broke into wild laugher and leaned back to let a watery gaze fall on Jeralyle. Again, as she had on the ladder, she stared at him, biting gently at her bottom lip and winking at him. It forced Jeralyle to read the look on her face—though with no luck. He was simply thankful that Carsis and Lanyan had gone to bed long before that happened.

  “I would believe it. You’re a sorceress…a devious…”

  “Less talking… More drinking!”

  The other dwarves that had been in the room when they entered were now serving as barmaids, filling the cups each time they were emptied. Javal took his in haste once it was placed in front of him. Letting his eyes roll into the back of his head for a moment, returning them forward only to have them go cross-eyed. “I hate ye…” and his pride got the better of him again, drinking much more than he should have just to prove a point.

  “That one’s going to end you King, I promise…”

  “We’ll see…”

  “Aye. Though you will not be conscious to do so,” the young woman blurted out before the tin mug touched her lips.

  The King roared, wobbling much more than earlier, his massive hand gripping the table as he tried to keep himself upright, “Ye…Ye cast a spell on me…”

  “The drink did that…”

  Javal sharpened his eyes as she giggled and he no longer had the strength or even the know-how to widen them again. Now the stone-hard look remained emblazoned in his grainy blue eyes. “Evil…” he muttered, mostly into the cup as he brought it back down and smiled at her as though he was her best friend.

  She tilted her head, obviously impressed and then peered at his glass, “How much do ye have left, Dwarven King?” The King squinted one eye and expanded the other as he brought the mug up extremely close to his face to look. Though, he couldn’t tell and shoved it in front of her. “Me…too…” She said, mocking his gesture and showing her cup. “Wait…” came another whisper from her and she dug through her bag, removing a second pouch and tossing it onto the table. “One year’s worth of work…right there…yours. If you win…on one condition.”

  “What be it?!” He blurted out, almost before she had finished.

  “I empty my cup, you empty yours.”

  He raised his mug, “Agreed!”

  Merial raised her own to slam against his and then brought it back down to the table, breathing heavily and staring at it, trying to muster up the strength to finish the challenge. For the first time, she seemed hesitant and reluctant to drink, looking up at the King and then back to the two bags she had left on the table, her intoxicated state and ego perhaps forcing her in to the brazen decision.

  Jeralyle watched and then leaned down to look her in the eye, “You can do it Mare…”

  Her eyes remained locked on the cup but the furthest, tiniest part of her mouth tugged upwards and a slight blush rose to her cheeks. Without a second thought—she drank. At first she remained, then went back farther and farther, seeming as though she would fall back completely. But she returned, to lean on the table and hold the cup—now upside down—over it, not a drop left to exit.

  “Well…done…” Javal spoke, following her lead and cranking his head back to finish the last bit, but he did not stop there. Once he was upright, he leaned back, swallowing quickly. From there, simply continued, as though his back was searching for a place to rest—something to hold him up. He finally found it in the form of the floor as he tumbled off the bench and landed flat, both arms sprawled out at his sides.

  As Javal’s arms fell down Merial’s hands went up, raising them in victory and turning a wide-eyed look towards the three remaining companions the moment a loud snore erupted in the room. “HA!” after a long deserved celebration, Merial scooted slowly from the table, yanking back both bags of gold and placing them in her satchel as she attempted to crawl away.

  “Help her…” Gort muttered as he went to aid his fallen King.

  Jeralyle assumed the Dwarf was talking to him as Ristalln had begun lifting the massive ruler. When he got to the bench, Merial was halfway across it on her hands and knees.

  “Jer jer.” she beamed and looked up at him.

  “Come on, I’ll take you to bed.”

  She thought for a moment and then grinned wildly. This time Jeralyle could tell exactly what she was thinking. “My hero!” she blurted out, holding her arms up to him.

  With a chuckle, he wrapped his around her waist and lifted her up. She squeezed tight around his neck and clung to him as he turned towards Gort. “Second ledge, two over… Right?”

  The Dwarf nodded, taking one of Javal’s heavy arms and putting over his shoulders.

  “Have you got her?” Ristalln asked, putting the King’s other arm over his shoulder with two other dwarves helping as well. It seemed it would take them all to lift Javal.

  “Aye,” Jer said as he carried her out of the long hallway, the cold night air jolting him back to life.

  Merial clutched tight
er and then rested her nose against his neck, leaning up slightly to whisper in his ear, “I’m very glad that we found you Jerry Berry,” she snorted softly, laughing at the name she’d just created.

  Jeralyle could have sworn that he felt her lips on his earlobe. Unable to tell if she was flirting or falling asleep, he tried his best not to grow uncomfortable. Yet, he failed, and had to clear his throat and draw back slightly in order not to be tempted, “As am I, Mare… As am I.”

  Her grip around his neck loosened, prompting his on her waist to tighten, as he feared she had fallen asleep. Instead her hand went to the back of his head, her fingers twisting into his hair. She pursued him as he pulled away, brushing her lips along his neck before they found their way back to his ear, “I wish it had happened sooner.”

  He sighed as his emotions tugged at him, desire telling him to do something as guilt drove him not to. “What do you mean, Merial?” No response. “Mare?” As he approached the ladder, he looked down to find her fast asleep in his arms. He chuckled, leaned and kissed her lightly on the head. “Night, Mare. You were amazing in there.” As if his emotions were not enough, he was now forced with the quandary of how to get her down the ladder. He looked around, seeing if Ristalln or Gort were exiting, though he didn’t know why. The ladder was far too small and much too narrow. Neither of them, as strong as they were, would be able to carry her down. But his eyes caught something else in the search, something that was far more suited than a stocky dwarf or a valiant knight. And he scanned his environment once more; this time to make sure no one was coming. “She’s going to kill me if she wakes up…” he whispered to himself, carrying the woman over to the lift they saw on the way in—typically used by the dwarves to move rubble from one level to the other.

  Merial was far lighter than what the dwarves typically put on and it would carry her safely to the ground. It was almost too perfect. Except for the jagged, broken wood that the constantly shifting rocks had caused. “Now I really hope she doesn’t wake up,” Jer muttered again, laying her down gently beside the lift and standing. He kept his eyes on her the entire time, removing his cloak and then spreading it out on the splintered flat. The chance existed that it would tear the fabric, but Jeralyle would accept that faster than he would risk causing the woman injury. After his cloak had been placed, Merial was to follow. Jeralyle did his best to make sure that he did not rouse her after he picked her back up, trying harder still when he placed her onto the platform and slid it off the mountain’s edge.

  The pulleys were actually an ingenious design. Jeralyle worried he would have to grip the rope obsessively with one hand as he hung her off the edge, else the entire thing may crash down to the second level. So he clutched and dug his heels into the ground, preparing for such an outcome. Yet it stayed in place, long enough for Jeralyle to stand and get both hands around the rope. It was only when he raised the rope up a bit did it slip off of its locks and begin creaking towards the ground.

  Moments later, she was safely onto the second ledge. Giving a sigh of relief the Mage worked his way to the ladder, preparing to do the same. He had made it all the way down and halfway back to the lift when a thought suddenly dawned on him. What if Carsis was awake? He could only imagine what would go through the other man’s mind if he saw him clutching his fiancé and putting her to bed. Jer was going to do it regardless, but that didn’t stop him from peeking around the corner after he retrieved her and took her to the room she occupied. The sheets were mussed, but no sign of Carsis anywhere.

  “Whew…”Jeralyle breathed with relief, creeping in and laying her down. One more kiss was placed on her head after the Mage surveyed a final time to make sure the redhead was nowhere to be seen. “I wish I had met you sooner too,” he whispered and exited quickly before her partner returned, heading back to the lift to retrieve his cloak.

  “How did it go?”

  A voice came from behind Jeralyle, “Please…let it be Lanyan,” he thought and then turned, “So much for hope…” he muttered, locking his eyes on Merial’s other half. “It went…well. Your fiancé is incredibly strong.”

  “Yes… MY fiancé is.” The red-haired man approached, though in the dim light his color seemed much darker and had an almost purple tint to it. When he walked up to Jeralyle, this was the closest he had ever been and Jer finally noticed the foot difference they had in height. “She is sleeping, I trust.”

  Carsis’ eyes struck him, his demeanor was casual yet harbored a slight aggression, as though he was trying to intimidate him. “Aye… she is,” Jer said through clamped teeth, his hand dropping to his side, fingers twitching slightly. He didn’t think it would come down to a fight, but he wanted to be ready in case.

  The man took a step, then another until his feet where almost touching the tip of Jer’s, waiting; looking down and narrowing his eyes—glaring—before calming his face then scowling once more. He hoped that Jeralyle would look away, that he would back down. However, as small as the Mage was compared to him—he stood firm. Carsis finally grew bored, stuck out his chest and whispered harshly, “Stay away from her, understand?” His head cocked slightly, “She’s mine.”

  While Carsis sought fear from Jeralyle, the Mage only expressed curiosity, unsure if he even heard him properly. Something he wondered about long after Carsis left.