By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought)

by Crandall, John

  The serving wench took their order: Cinder’s brandy, Fiona’s wine, Dirk and Melissa’s beer. “I’ve got an idea,” started Fiona. “Have you heard about the thieves that steal temple artifacts and defile the altars? Needless to say, the clergy want these people caught and there is a big reward.”

  Dirk looked across at her. With her short, spiked hair, youthful appearance, combined with her leather armor, he could picture Fiona hanging out with gang thugs on a street corner. But at other times, like when she wore a dress, or when she spoke, he could never make that mistake: Fiona’s language was too elegant and she carried herself like a true lady, as if of the nobility herself.

  “What?” Fiona asked. Dirk didn’t realize that he’d been staring, and he quickly averted his eyes to keep from giving her the wrong impression.

  “I said,” he conjured, “how...” he paused, trying to remember what she had been saying.

  “How do we catch this guy,” Melissa said, looking at him strangely, wondering as to his distraction.

  “Yeah,” Dirk added, “let me finish.” He stared back at her, trying to hide his lie.

  “Sorry. Go ahead,” Melissa said, rolling her eyes.

  “That’s all,” replied Dirk. The women looked at him as if he were a moron. He shrugged. “Well, wait,” he interrupted Fiona just as she began again. “This isn’t what I meant by adventure. I meant lost cities and treasure hoards; treks across the Wild. Not bounty hunting.”

  “If you’d like to end your poverty, you’ll take what you can get,” Fiona said.

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin,” he sighed. “And I’m not poverty-ish…or poverty-like…or whatever!” He got mad, unable to find the right word.

  The serving girl brought their drinks; slipping in during their discussion as they milled over ideas of where to begin their search for over half-an-hour, “if I decide to do such a lame adventure...” Dirk was sure to add again and again.

  Soon, the wench brought the group an unordered round of drinks, pointing to Selric. Dirk and Fiona turned and raised their drinks in salute and Selric returned it with his own mug. “Well, how can we find these thieves?” Dirk asked, turning back to his friends, his impatience growing. “Let’s get busy.”

  “First, I have a question,” said Melissa. She looked at Cinder. “No offense, but why is she here?”

  “Fiona said so,” Dirk said.

  “Why?” she asked Fiona. Then she turned back to Dirk. “And since when do you listen to Fiona?”

  “She asked me to bring her, so I did,” Dirk said defensively.

  “Because she’s half-elven,” Fiona said. Melissa gasped. Dirk sat unmoving and Cinder hadn’t heard; she was looking over her shoulder at Selric. Her race had never been mentioned, especially by Cinder, not even to Dirk. She thought it easier to study humans if she was believed to be one herself. Dirk had been over her body enough times to notice the slight differences, mainly her eyes and a slight fragrance, but he just figured that to be perfume. But there were other indicators: the slight sweep of her brows, the faint point to her ears visible rarely beneath her mound of hair, and the delicate curve of her slender bone structure. He knew she was different but he never thought she was half-elven: he had never even heard of a being such as a ‘half-elf’. He knew of elves, everyone did, but knew nothing of their interbreeding.

  “How do you know?” Melissa asked, studying Cinder’s face as if a puzzle was hidden there and Cinder blushed.

  “A lot of reasons,” Fiona said, mentioning the same things Dirk was thinking, as well as the nearly undetectable accent that slipped on uncommon or difficult words. It took a keen eye and quick brain to detect such subtleties in casual meetings, if one had never met one of the “People” before. Fiona had both the mind and the eye to notice as much. Selric recognized her heritage as well, having met the elusive elves on several occasions.

  Cinder was now looking at Fiona. “Why don’t we tell the whole world?” she asked sarcastically.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to give up your secret,” Fiona said, “but that’s why you’re here. I just assume that you have some aptitude for magic and keener-than-human senses. You could be helpful to our effort.”

  “I think so,” Cinder said with slight haughtiness.

  With Cinder’s attention finally off of him, Selric walked over, and when Cinder turned back to flirt with him again, she found he was not there. When she turned back to Fiona, her face pouting and disappointed, she found Selric standing between them. She screamed and jumped, so startled that she almost fell out of her chair. Then she started laughing and so did Fiona. Selric smiled.

  “Thanks for the drinks,” said Dirk sincerely.

  “You are welcome,” Selric said, bowing his head slowly and politely, as a servant. “I could not help but overhear you. It seems you want to find the temple perpetrators.”

  “I guess,” scoffed Dirk, still unhappy with their choice of adventures.

  “I also heard that you don’t know where to start.” They looked at him attentively. “I think I can help you.”

  “Pull up a chair,” said Fiona with an eager smile.

  “Thank you,” Selric said. He pulled one from another table, but did not sit down, instead, holding his hand out to Dirk across the table. “Selric Arnesson Stormweather.”

  “I knew it,” Fiona said excitedly.

  He introduced himself around the table, kissing Cinder’s hand, then Fiona’s. When he reached for Melissa’s, she pulled it away, but he caught it and lifted it gently over the table.

  “That’s silly,” Melissa giggled. “Just shake it.”

  “That would not do. A lady of your noble bearing deserves her hand kissed by an admirer,” Selric said, a twinkle in his eye and a sly, playful grin on his face. Cinder sat slack-jawed, wondering why she was not getting the attention.

  “I’m not noble,” Melissa said. “I’m from Stoneheim,” she said as if it were synonymous with lower class.

  “I’m sure there are many noble women in Stoneheim, amongst which you are foremost in beauty and in charm.” Melissa blushed. Dirk, even Fiona, had never seen her so humbled. When she looked down, Selric gave Dirk a friendly wink. Dirk could not help but smile, despite his jealousy. Selric then sat down.

  “Stormweather?” Fiona asked in awe.

  “Uh, yeah,” Selric said, almost as if embarrassed, though he did not seem so when he loudly stated his name. “Pros and cons to that,” he added with a sheepish grin.

  “Whoa, “ Dirk said, finally realizing what was being talked about. “One of the…”

  “Yes. My father is Andric…”

  “And his grandfather Helmric,” Fiona interrupted.

  “Oh those generals from that war when I was little. Wow..they are like famous. You are like famous,” Dirk said with an appreciative nod.

  “Where was I,” Selric continued after a long laugh. “Ahh, yes. I’m quite familiar with the back streets. I know a lot of people there. I’m in a bit of a bind with my family and I think that some good publicity for the family name might boost my standing with them. I’ll help you find all I can and, in my spare time, help you conduct the search. In return, I’ll take a share of the reward and the glory, as well as whatever else you give.” He took Cinder’s hand and kissed it softly, slowly; looking seductively into her entrancing eyes. She giggled and adored his attention. Selric looked at Dirk. “You don’t mind, do you? One of these must be your companion for the evening, but not all three. Even I’m not that lucky. At first I thought them three ladies of the evening, and you their keeper.” He smiled so kindly that it was unmistakably a jest.

  Cinder had been in mid-drink and spit her brandy all over the table in her laughter: she was becoming more silly with each drink. Every time she laughed, Fiona did. But this time even Melissa chuckled. Dirk finally gave in as well, hearing Cinder’s delicate voice in its sweet laughter.

  “The singing of a nightingale,” Selric said, kissing Cinder’s hand one m
ore time. She laughed harder and so did Fiona. “Aren’t you two rather gay this evening?” They kept laughing and it quickly grew out of control, Selric’s humorous expressions and false voices bringing the ladies to tears. He looked at Dirk. “Just about anything is funny to them, isn’t it?” Dirk nodded his agreement.

  “Yeah, they’re pretty weird,” Melissa added. Her simple, cute, matter-of-factness took their laughter a notch higher. Cinder soon could not breathe.

  “I could probably slit my own throat and they’d continue their frivolity,” Selric said. Cinder laughed so hard at the word frivolity, that she fell out of her chair and Fiona bent forward, hitting her head on the table, which caused Melissa to laugh, pounding her fist on the table and spilling her drink. The beer spread quickly, running over the edge and onto Dirk’s lap, this causing Selric to laugh.

  Dirk was befuddled: he couldn’t remember hearing anything even humorous, but everyone at the table acted as if he had sprouted daisies for hair. He stood up, brushed the beer from his pants then looked around. Everyone in the tavern was laughing, staring at Dirk’s table. He picked Cinder up off of the floor, who was still laughing raucously, and carried her outside into the fresh air. Her laughter seemed as loud as a fire bell on the quiet street. He kept holding her, and slowly she relaxed then stretched up, kissing him deeply and for a long time.

  “Do we ever go out without you getting as drunk as a bum?” he asked.

  “No,” was her soft, childishly whispering answer, her eyes sparkling at him. The other three came out, still laughing, though not so helplessly.

  “Well, I don’t know where this night is going,” Dirk said, berating them. They all fell silent, looking somberly at him. His satisfaction was short lived as he felt Cinder jiggling in his arms. He looked down: she was covering her mouth and laughing at the sour look on his face. When he saw that, she erupted into full laughter, followed by the other three. Dirk threw his head back and screamed his frustration, at which they laughed harder.

  “Go ahead, laugh. Get it out, you stupid fools!” he yelled, and they did, lying in the street, or leaning against the wall. He put Cinder down and went around the corner, waiting for them to calm down or sober up. Each time their laughter died down, he stepped out and again they roared, to which he would throw his hands up in the air.

  “Fine, get it out. Get it all out. Why do I feel like you’re laughing at me?” This happened several times and as he sat in the alley, he heard a scraping sound come from the alleyway behind the hall. He went around to the back and saw a manhole cover sliding slowly into place. Dirk ran back around front and this time, strangely, they did not laugh.

  “Come on!” he said excitedly. “Hurry!” When he drew his sword, they sobered up, except for Cinder, who they left sitting dumbly on the wooden walk, blinking her eyes in wonderment at where they were all going. Selric was off the walk, around the corner, sword out, and right next to Dirk before the husky deliveryman knew it. Fiona trotted into the alley next. Melissa got an early jump, but spilled half her arrows and had to stop to pick them up. With her athletic stride, she soon caught up and they all reached the back alley together.

  “Look!” Dirk said, pointing at the sewer entrance.

  “A manhole cover. Quick, kill it,” Selric said.

  Fiona chuckled. “Stop it,” she whispered, nudging him.

  “No! I saw it slide back into place. Someone went down in the hole,” Dirk insisted.

  “You can’t go in there,” Selric said. “Especially without light.”

  “If we don’t go now, they’ll get away,” Dirk said.

  “The sewers are a dangerous place, Dirk. You don’t even know who it was,” Selric cautioned.

  “Come on,” said Melissa, walking out into the alley.

  “Wait,” said Selric, “I’ll get some torches. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “You won’t catch me in there,” came a sober voice behind them. They turned and saw Cinder standing there, staring at the hole.

  “Then stay here, we’ll be right back,” said Fiona.

  “Don’t go in there,” Selric said as he ran off around The Unicorn’s Run.

  “I’m not waiting,” said Melissa, handing her bow to Fiona. “Here,” she said, walking to the nearest lamp post. She climbed up and at the top she lifted the heavy lamp from its hook and brought it down. Dirk had the sewer cover off and was looking for Selric’s return. Then the four of them peered down into the black.

  After several moments, Melissa spoke. “I’ll go first. He’s not coming back anytime soon.” Dirk grabbed her shoulder.

  “No, I’ll go,” and he went down, holding the lantern as far down as his arm would hang, needing to put his sword away to hold onto the ladder. He expected to see the eyes of a gigantic crocodile or the slimy tentacle of some horrible creature slither out of the disgusting water and wrap itself around his leg. He saw neither; just a large, well-kept sewer tunnel with a wide walkway leading off in both directions into the impenetrable dark. Fiona dropped down behind him, then Melissa, who took her bow off her back and strung an arrow when she reached the bottom.

  “Don’t shoot me, whatever else you do!” Dirk warned.

  “Don’t worry,” she snapped, insulted.

  “Which way?” Fiona asked. Any answer was cut off by Cinder’s voice, piercingly loud.

  “Bye!” she yelled. “Be careful!” she said, as if they were three blocks away.

  “Shhh,” they hissed in unison.

  “Okay. Bye. I’ll be waiting inside. Don’t fall in the yuckers,” she whispered. Dirk picked the direction and started out, handing Fiona the lamp. They walked on, always straight, passing a few small tunnels leading off to the sides. Each of these side passages meant a jump of four feet over a moat to continue the walk along the main passage. The smell was smothering and terrible. Not only was there human waste, but the majority of the sludge was food waste and unwanted garbage. Every so often, Fiona saw the gleam of bones, but she refrained from telling the others, and wondered if they too saw them.

  After what seemed an hour, the tunnel came to an end where there was a pile of garbage nearly three feet high. As they neared, they saw that it was a mound of rags, canvas, and shattered crates. Melissa noted, too late, that it seemed nest-like. As Dirk poked into the junk with his sword, a huge insect, the length of a man with two great pincers and long antennae, came scurrying over the pile, snapping at Dirk. It would have snatched his leg had his sword not been thrust forward into the heap. It held his blade and Dirk was defenseless.

  “You’d better duck,” he heard Melissa say. Thinking he might be shot, Dirk fell to the cold, damp stone.

  “Get down!” Fiona screamed as she pulled on his pants. The twang of the bowstring followed by a “crack” as the arrow pierced the pincer shell, echoed in Dirk’s ear just as he hit the floor.

  “Now,” Melissa yelled. Dirk stood up and pulled his sword from the shattered claw and with all his might, shoved it down into the creature’s back with a snap. He heard the tip scrape the stone underneath the monstrosity, but it was not dead. Dirk looked up just in time to see its tail flashing forward. He turned aside just as the stinger flashed past, reaching full extension mere inches from Fiona’s chest, then retracted. Melissa took the opportunity of Dirk being to the side, and shot it again. This time, it quivered and lay still. With his sword, Dirk slid the dead monster into the muck.

  “Good thing I’m not built like you,” Fiona said to Melissa, looking at her breasts. “I’d be dead.”

  Melissa stuck her chest out proudly. “I’d have moved,” she said plainly.

  “I doubt it. It would take a while to get those in motion,” Fiona mused. Melissa made a coy expression but no verbal reply.

  “Look,” said Dirk, lifting up a tattered pouch. He opened it, looked in and saw the glint of metal and gemstones inside. He thrust his hand in, but quickly withdrew it with an “ouch” to reveal that two of his fingertips were bleeding. Fiona took the pouch and dumped t
he contents out onto the walkway: coins, gems, and shards of glass from a broken vial whose contents had long ago seeped away.

  “Good job,” she said sarcastically. “Big brave Dirk.” She took his hand and locked his arm into her armpit so that he could not flinch. Dirk felt jabbing pains.

  “Ouch,” he screamed again.

  The women were looking strangely at each other. “You’re weird,” Melissa said to Fiona and Dirk pulled his hand back.

  “There,” Fiona said. “I got the glass out. Let me wrap it.” He gingerly gave her his hand and she took it, placing the two bleeding fingers in her mouth and sucking the blood off. Dirk felt her tongue racing over his fingers. “That would sure feel good...no, I won’t think about that because she’ll see it in my...” then he looked up at her. Fiona took out a silk handkerchief and wrapped his fingers, but she did not watch her work, her eyes, instead, studying his face: she had been the entire time. Dirk grew angry, seeing her smile slyly. He bent down to pick up the coins and three gemstones.

  “Now, there was a bit of adventure,” he said happily, swinging his sword bravely about, having finally used it to strike an actual living target.

  “Yes, but not the person who came down the shaft,” said Fiona.

  On their walk back the way they had come, the three ventured down the smaller side passages, but not one of the tunnels went very far before coming to an end. Down the third one, they found a small opening in the wall where the brick had either fallen out or had been knocked away by some unknown subterranean beast. Dirk was too large too squeeze inside; even Melissa’s shoulders were too wide. But Fiona, after shedding her leather shirt, was able to slide through the two foot thick wall. Inside there was another nest-type pile; this one more human. There was a ratted old blanket, an empty lamp, a pouch of stale bread and cheese, a nearly empty bottle of wine, and what seemed to have once been a stuffed bear, now ragged and sagging for lack of stuffing. After sifting through the belongings, Fiona took the bear and climbed back out. “Look,” she said, holding it up.

  “I wonder what that’s doing in there.” Melissa said.