by Tyson, Mark
“Tatrice,” Dorenn began, “what did you want to talk to me about? I have to be up at first light.”
“I know,” Tatrice replied in a stern voice as she slammed some pots and pans into the washbasin. “Were you planning on telling me about this Symbor trip, or were you just going to be gone when I woke?”
“Tatrice, I…”
“What, Dorenn, do you still see me as a silly girl? Am I not important enough for you to confide in?”
“Well…” Dorenn let his eyes roll up to the side, knowing immediately it was the wrong thing to do.
Tatrice’s jaw dropped and then she slammed it shut, narrowing her eyes at him as if she could somehow strike him down with a gaze. More pots and pans crashed in the washbasin.
Dorenn smiled. “Tatrice, I’m not serious. I don’t think of you as a silly girl. I was going to tell you tonight after we finished serving Lady Shey’s party. I couldn’t very well stop serving ale long enough to…”
“Stop right there, Dorenn Adair. We had many opportunities to talk and you avoided me.”
“No, I didn’t. I was busy.”
“All right, if you were too busy to talk to me, then I am too busy to talk to you.”
Dorenn put his hand on Tatrice’s shoulder. “Tat, I…”
Tatrice pulled her shoulder away. “I said go, Dorenn, I am too busy,” she spat sarcastically.
Slowly Dorenn turned back to the kitchen door, unsure if Tatrice really wanted him to leave or if she was about to become angrier because he was leaving. Girls were so confusing, but he did not have the luxury of time to contemplate what she meant, so he decided to go to bed and talk to her in the morning.
As Dorenn left the kitchen, he heard Lady Shey’s voice coming from the private dining hall over more loud pots and pans crashing. He peeked in to see who she was talking to and saw the town elder women seated around the table sipping tea. Lady Shey said something about Sanmir the Apothecary then abruptly stopped and stared directly at the door. Dorenn moved away, hoping she had not seen him. He decided he was not interested in what the women folk had to say; it probably had something to do with men. They were never satisfied with what the men folk were up to anyway. Dorenn yawned, stumbled tiredly to his bedchamber, and fell asleep on his bed without even getting into his nightclothes.
Chapter 3: The Apothecary
Dorenn was awakened by a tapping at his window. He opened his eyes and rose angrily, searching for the source of the irritation. Faint noises growing stronger, much like the sound of beating wings, startled him lucid. He jumped from his bed to peer out the window. Searching the darkness of the street below, he thought he saw Fadral scurrying out from the shadow of the inn. He flipped the latch clasping the windows shut, swung them open, and leaned out to call to him. Cool mountain air rushed inside and made him shiver. The street below was barren, and Dorenn listened for the beating sound that woke him but heard nothing. He yawned sleepily and pulled the windows closed. He reached for the window clasp and began to latch it when he caught the sight of a dark figure swooping down from the roof of the inn, gliding silently to the street. The tall figure loomed hunched over and then it straightened. Its body was tall, too tall. It looked as if it wore a long cloak. Dorenn opened the windows again to get a better look. The cloaked figure stood silently, unmoving. Dorenn strained to call out, but his words froze in his throat. The hair on the back of his neck began to creep up and goose pimples covered his arms. Fear griped him as the figure’s cloak shimmered, moving outward and upward like two colossal bat wings. Instinctively, Dorenn took a knee to hide beneath the window and out of the creature’s line of sight.
From his crouched position, Dorenn blinked and rubbed his eyes with his fists, but the apparition remained. Without warning, the creature’s head turned to look directly at his window, and Dorenn trembled in fright as he saw two red eyes staring back at him. He backed away from the window, stumbling over his own feet and falling to the floor with a thud. The sound of beating wings returned, and Dorenn clawed at his bed trying to get up. The sound abated, and Dorenn was surprised to see a hideous maw with long fangs inset within a twisted black face that stretched like leather over a deformed skull, elongated and gaunt. It appeared to have two small slits where a nose should have been and spiny bones jutting out around the eyes and jaw. He tried to scream but fear froze his throat tight. The creature moved to get into the small window, but it had trouble folding its wings close enough around its body to squeeze in. It saw Dorenn and made a high-pitched whine of glee as it tried to claw its way inside to get at him.
Dorenn frantically searched his room in vain for something to defend himself with. The creature coughed and hacked at the boy as it tried to get in, and Dorenn felt something thick and wet hit his chest. He stumbled as he backed away from the window, pushing with his feet as hard as he could. Then, as the creature finally began to force itself through the window, its face twisted in pain and it let out a chilling squeal. It backed itself out of the window with haste and squealed again. With two beats of its bat-like wings it took flight and was gone.
For a long moment, Dorenn sat against his bed motionless except for the heaving of his chest as he tried to catch his breath. He was too afraid to move. As his courage slowly returned, he moved to the window and peered out. He saw someone who looked like Sanmir standing in the street.
“Dorenn, is that you, lad?” he heard a voice say. It was Sanmir the Apothecary.
“Aye,” Dorenn called back, “what was that thing? Did you see it?”
Sanmir motioned to Dorenn. “Come down here, we need to get you to my shop at once!”
“What?” Dorenn asked confused.
“Come quickly, boy. You are in danger!”
Dorenn looked down at his tunic and watched, horrified as the front of it seemed to disintegrate before his eyes. A sharp sting burned his chest. “What is it?” Dorenn shrieked.
“No time to explain, move!”
Dorenn rushed out his door and down the stairs, surprised that no one had been awakened by the creature’s squeals. He met Sanmir in the street, and the tall Darovan elf grabbed Dorenn’s tunic and ripped it from his body with one hard tug. He clutched Dorenn’s arm and pulled him along behind him. Dorenn tried to keep up, but he kept jamming his feet on the cold cobblestones.
“What are you doing, Sanmir? You are hurting my arm, not to mention my toes.”
“Hush up, boy, stop whining and come along, quickly, quickly. There is no time!”
Dorenn began to get worried, and his chest burned as they moved. Sanmir’s apothecary shop was not far to the north of the inn, and as soon as they reached it Sanmir opened the painted wooden door and thrust Dorenn inside. The light from the fireplace and various lanterns hanging from beams in the ceiling illuminated a room covered floor to ceiling with shelves full of bottles and jars. Dorenn looked down at his chest and found it red and burning; blood oozed, and raw skin began to flay away.
Sanmir took one of the jars down from a back shelf and pulled something out that appeared to be yellow mud. With his two forefingers, Sanmir splattered the yellow mud on to the burn on Dorenn’s chest and rubbed it in. It felt cool to the touch and the pain of the burn subsided. “What was that thing, Sanmir?” Dorenn asked again.
Sanmir continued rubbing the yellow mud deeper into Dorenn’s damaged skin. “Some might call it a Shadow Lurker and some a Drasmyd Duil.” He wiped the yellow substance from his hands on a nearby cloth. “A nasty creature. You’re lucky, boy.
“Where did it come from?”
Sanmir put the jar back on the shelf. “Scarovia or Abaddonia, I would imagine. Drasmyd Duil are creatures the dark wielder Toborne created as spies and assassins.”
“But why would it come after me?”
Sanmir’s expression turned thoughtful. “Why indeed.”
“Sanmir?”
Sanmir’s thoughtfulness faded. “Perhaps you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps it felt it needed to get at
you because you saw it.” Sanmir suddenly seemed irritated. “It could have been after you for many reasons.”
Dorenn did not quite accept Sanmir’s explanation but dared not question him further on the matter. “Will…will I be all right then?” Dorenn looked at the yellow mud on his chest.
“Aye, that salve will draw out the poison and stop the pain.”
“Poison? It poisoned me?”
“Drasmyd Duil cough up a poison that eats away at the flesh. It is very difficult for them to produce, so they only spit it under extreme circumstances.” Sanmir’s pointed ears twitched. “Better not say anything about this to anyone in the village; it will put everyone in a fright.” Sanmir scratched his head. “I don’t believe anyone else noticed it; none that I could see anyway.”
“But Sanmir, it got away. What if it attacks someone else?” Dorenn asked, clearly alarmed.
“Don’t worry, it won’t. I doubt it will survive more than an hour.” He leaned in and smiled devilishly. “You see, I have dealt with its kind before.”
“What did you do?” Dorenn asked suspiciously.
“Never you mind that, boy, just suffice it to say those creatures don’t venture near Darovan anymore.” Sanmir winked.
Dorenn suddenly felt dizzy and had trouble standing upright. He pulled up a nearby chair and sat down.
“Careful, boy, that salve has a tendency to make one drowsy.”
“What was in it?”
“Even if I told you it wouldn’t mean much to you. It’s best to leave its contents to me. Why don’t you sit back, and I will get the door.”
Dorenn heard a knocking at the door, and he wondered if someone had been tapping on it before Sanmir went to answer it. “Who would be coming around this time of night?” Dorenn heard himself say as if he were somehow detached from his body. Dorenn blinked; his vision was blurring. “Sanmir, I…” Dorenn slipped into a euphoric state. Everything around him seemed as a dream.
“It’s about time you stopped by,” Dorenn thought he heard Sanmir say. “I wondered when you would come around here again.”
“I had to wait until Dellah Adair was satisfied that I was comfortable in my room before I could slip away,” Dorenn heard a familiar voice say.
“It is good to see you, Shey,” Sanmir said. “It has been far too long.”
Dorenn tried to stand again, but his legs would not support him. He saw Lady Shey as if he were looking at her from the end of a long tunnel.
“What happened to the boy?” Lady Shey asked worried. “Is he well?”
“He will be fine; in fact, he will soon be sleeping. He had a nasty run-in with a Shadow Lurker.”
Lady Shey’s voice turned frantic. “We have to get him away from Brookhaven with all haste. Obviously, it isn’t safe here any longer,” she said.
“Where will you take him?” Sanmir asked bluntly. “Do you know where the Drasmyd Duil came from?”
“I have my suspicions. I will fill you in on my travels soon enough.” She watched Dorenn for a moment, and he made sure he shut his eyes. “In the morrow we will journey to Symbor. Ianthill made it clear to me to travel through Cedar Falls; he has instructed me to stay the night there.”
“Why Cedar Falls?”
“Ianthill was vague on that point, I’m afraid,” Lady Shey answered. “But I think he means to meet up with us there.”
“He is sure of your persuasive abilities.”
“Naturally, although I didn’t have to do much persuading. Lourn is sending the boy to Symbor anyway. I just had to hitch a ride.”
“How did you manage that?”
“I promised to help stock the inn. He couldn’t refuse.”
“No, I suppose he had a hard saying no to that.”
Dorenn fought sleep with all of his might, but it took all of his strength to do so.
“I hope you took care of that Shadow Lurker?” Lady Shey said, cutting her eyes at Sanmir.
“Aye,” Sanmir replied, “it won’t get far.” Lady Shey remained silent for a long moment, but she did not take her eyes off Sanmir. “No one else saw it if that’s what you’re thinking,” the apothecary assured her.
“I knew I could trust you, my friend,” Lady Shey said smiling.
“Don’t be too appreciative, my lady, wherever there is a Shadow Lurker, there are bound to be Dramyds skulking about.”
“A Drasmyd Duil so close to town I could believe since they can disguise themselves, but a Dramyd is a different matter. I doubt they would come so close to a village full of traveling soldiers no matter how dimwitted they may be.”
Sanmir smirked. “True enough. Well, come on in and sit down. I will make you a cup of bittering tea.”
“I would be glad to,” Lady Shey said, “but could you make it something to aid my sleep instead? Bittering tea will keep me awake all night.”
Dorenn’s head bobbed sleepily and he almost fell out of the chair.
“Let me prepare a place for the boy to lie down and I will make you a soothing tea for sleep,” Sanmir offered.
Dorenn did not remember moving from the chair to the sleeping pallet until he realized he was flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling.
“He is fighting off the poison and sleep also, I’m afraid,” Sanmir said from somewhere above Dorenn’s head.
“We may be in for a rough night,” Lady Shey observed.
“I could prepare a powder,” Sanmir said thoughtfully, reaching for a nearby shelf.
“I don’t believe we need to interrupt his body’s natural resistances. If his fever does not subside in an hour or so we will try other measures. For now, let’s leave him be. He is no longer in danger.” She suddenly became jovial. “You always did have a way with poisons and antidotes, Sanmir.”
Dorenn stirred awake in a sweat. His nightclothes were drenched and his head hurt. He threw the quilt covering him aside and looked at his chest. It had no signs of the yellow mud or of the burns. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and focused on the room around him, his room! Had he dreamed it all? His window was open and a stiff morning breeze blew in. The boy stumbled to the window and closed it. He examined the window pane for signs of the Drasmyd Duil’s struggle to get at him but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The sun had not yet topped the Jagged Mountains, but the faint light of dawn filtered through the buildings and into Dorenn’s window. In the streets below not a soul stirred. Dorenn stepped away from the window and absently rubbed his temples.
Except for the headache and the fact that his chest itched, he didn’t seem to suffer any serious pain or discomfort. He decided to get dressed and go to Sanmir’s shop. Now that he was more coherent, he had questions he wanted answered. Using the water bowl and pitcher on his dressing table, Dorenn washed his face and combed his hair. He pulled on his green traveling tunic and leather pantaloons and headed off to see the apothecary. He cleverly avoided the kitchen help, including Tatrice, and slipped out the front door of the inn.
The cobblestone streets of Brookhaven seemed unnaturally barren, even at this early hour. The air was clean and crisp; there was a distinct odor of ash and pine burning in the chimneys as he walked to the apothecary’s shop and rapped lightly on the door, not knowing exactly what to expect.
Rennon opened the door. “Dorenn, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Is Sanmir in?”
“Of course he is,” Rennon answered. “But he is…um…busy right now.”
Dorenn stood at the door for a long moment, staring at Rennon who neither stepped aside nor offered to let him in.
“Well, may I see him?” Dorenn requested, becoming more agitated. “I am sure he will see me.”
Rennon sighed heavily. “I suppose so.”
Dorenn cocked an eyebrow. “What’s wrong with you, Rennon? What are you trying to hide?”
“Nothing, I don’t know what you mean.”
Dorenn considered this. “Why are you acting so strange?”
“I’m not. I’m just surprised to see
you here so early in the morning.”
Sanmir walked into the room from the back of his shop where he mixed his potions and salves. “Here you go, Rennon.” He held a small leather bag and a small tin. “This should be enough to keep you for a couple of months, and I have also packed you some sickle root salve in case—” Sanmir stopped cold when he saw Dorenn, and then he regained his composure. “Oh, hello, Dorenn.”
“What is going on here?” Dorenn asked suspiciously.
“What do you mean?” Sanmir retorted.
“What is that bag for, and that tin?” Dorenn eyed Rennon then looked back at Sanmir.
“It’s a special brew of bittering tea for Rennon to take on the trip to Symbor,” Sanmir said, “and the tin is sickle root salve for minor cuts and scrapes.”
“We will only be gone a couple of weeks, why did you make him so much?”
Rennon faltered. “Um…well…”
“In case he is inclined to share some of course,” Sanmir said. His facial expression became anxious. “So what brings you here?” Sanmir asked, changing the subject. “Vesperin and Trendan have already come last evening to deliver Rennon’s summons.”
Dorenn furled his brows. “Something strange is going on here, and it began with the arrival of Lady Shey.”
“Lady who?” Rennon asked.
“Shey. She arrived from the mountains yesterday and visited this shop late last night. Didn’t Vesperin and Trendan tell you about her when they were here?”
