Fates damn him, but she was pretty.

The way she swayed her hips as she served the tables and the heart-melting smile she gave the patrons drew everyone’s eyes. Darim had discovered that her name was Siril, and he was going to ask her for a dance. 

Darim pulled at his collar. Why is it so hot in here? With the crack of his knuckles, and a large harumph! to get himself prepped, he bounded in her direction. She sat by the counter talking to the bartender.

Darim leaned on the counter beside her and gave one of his charming smiles. Girls always loved that one. The bartender shot Darim a suspicious look, but glanced at a nod from Siril and ambled off to deal with other patrons.

Siril turned to face Darim with her own killer smile. It was enough for Darim to forget his own name. Those brown locks cascaded down her shoulders like falls of chocolate. He shuddered. Keep calm.

“Name’s Darim,” he said, shooting her that smile again. 

“Siril,” she said. “Pleased to meet you.” She eyed his sword-spear on his back. “Interesting weapon. Haven’t seen many sellswords carry those around. Swords are all the rave nowadays.”

“Really?” asked Darim. “I thought it was axes.”

“Men with axes typically have those large muscles.” Her gaze swept down Darim’s more wiry form and she raised her brow.

“Well, muscles aren’t that great. I reckon they’re hard to hug.” Well, that was dumb.

“Hugged many muscled men, have you?” she mused, taking a sip of her drink.

“Errm. Anyways, I’ve learned that women don’t need a man who can hit hard; They need a man who can dance.” With that, Darim stood up, pushing aside the stool, and reached his hand out for hers elegantly. “Allow me to demonstrate.”

She blushed and averted her gaze only to lock her eyes in with his. Fates damn him, those eyes were precious. They were emeralds, twinkling in the candlelight of the tavern. Outside, the breeze hummed and the dancing about them seemed to fade in the background. It was just Darim and Siril. 

She nodded slightly and took his hand. Together, they moved onto an open space. The bards in the corner had already begun playing Over The Mountains And Into Your Arms a few minutes ago. Darim thanked the Fates that such was the case. The lengthy song was enough for him to woo this lass.

They began moving to the music with Darim’s hand on her waist, and hers laced around his neck. He lent his smile to her again and she returned her smirk as they swayed.

“So, you like this?” he asked her.

“I’m impressed,” she said. “You move with elegance.”

“I’m a master in these arts.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“Maybe you were right, but another thing women want in a man is some mystery.”

Darim’s blood ran cold. If only she knew half the things he hid. Memories of Lia and her contract, the hired assassins, the chase down the streets, and the explosions flitted through his mind like a windstorm. He looked back at the pretty lass. 

“Well, I’m an open book.” He cleared his throat. “As they say.”

“A man who’s an open book isn’t very interesting,” she mused. “Where’s the adventure a girl needs in life if her man has no mystery?”

“Fates damn me, woman,” said Darim. “Most girls love an honest man. Here you have one and you say he needs to hide things from you?”

She cocked her head and flashed that smile of hers again. They continued to sway as the music riled up for the chorus and then simmered down to a lengthy drawl. It was pleasant for Darim’s intentions.

“I want some fight in a man, some darkness, some secrecy, but also honesty.”

“And I want a woman that makes some sense for once.” Darim chuckled. “I suppose we can’t all have what we want.”

“Mmm,” she mused and pressed her head to his chest. Darim hoped she couldn’t hear his heart skip a few beats. Fates, but she was pretty. “So there’s nothing about you, you say?” 

 “No, miss,” said Darim. “I am truly an open book.” Fates, if only she knew. He hoped Lia wouldn’t walk in here. She had gone to the library to research a lead on her hunt. She had given him leave to dice and dance about. What would Darim say to Siril, that he was traveling with another woman? That would not do at all, now would it?

Siril lifted her head from his chest and gave him a mischievous smile. “You dance well enough, Darim.” She unlaced her arms from his neck. “But Jakel has been pursuing me for a while. And he has those muscles I talked to you about. And an ax.”

Darim’s throat clogged as he struggled to speak. “Well,” he said. “I can tell you muscles are nothing in a duel.”

Siril skipped to her counter with Darim in tow. From afar now, Darim could see an angry man with corded muscles indeed bulging like anvils glowering at him. The muscled man’s eyes switched from her then back onto him. Darim gulped. 

“Oh, you don’t think so?” she asked. “Why don’t you go fight him then?”

Darim gulped again. “Well, I wouldn’t want to kill the man,” he said. He was sure he could beat him with his spear if he wanted to. What elegance did an ax have anyways with all that chopping and hacking? 

“Oh, don’t kill him,” said Siril with another sip of her ale. “Just box him up for me. I want to see which one of you is better.”

“That’s like something from a story. And let me tell you, it’s a poor way to judge a man.”

“Poorer than dancing?” she asked with her brow raised. 

“Fate damn me, woman. You want me to box that muscled ox?”

She gave him an innocent smile and nodded her head. She seemed to be playing with him. 

Darim peered at Jakel and grimaced. The man looked like he could lift a boulder with one arm and still dance with Siril with the other just to show off to Darim.  Darim turned back to see Siril curling her fingers in goodbye as she returned to her serving duties. 

“Fates damn me,” he sighed. “I’m going to actually do it? By my honor, I suppose.” She was jesting with him, but Darim would show her that he was no coward. He shrugged and marched over to Jakel, who set his drink down in shock. With that, Darim shouted a curse and shot forward his fist.

****

Lia shuffled through a large stack of dusty tomes. The state of this library was adequate. However, she would have expected more respect given to the Arcen Lore V1-V1t. The conditions of those were shoddy at best. She really shouldn’t have been annoyed. They were probably so shoddy because scholars like her had read them so much.

There was an immense amount of power stored in their lore. It was not tangible power, but rather, the power of the mind. A person with such knowledge could come to terrifying conclusions about the state of the world. If one gave that knowledge to a warlord, who knows what they’d do? Lia shuddered. 

She didn’t need to think about those individuals again.

Warlords seemed to dominate the weakened lands nowadays. Many of those knew things they shouldn’t and used them against the people. Lia wasn’t a heroine from the tales to stop them, but she knew if they discovered half of what she knew, they would come after her.

She recalled the hired assassins. There was already someone after her and he wasn’t even that powerful; Baron Crandle. He held a small Barony to the center of Karth, but the man knew more than he let on. 

Lia brushed her hands over the books in her possession. True power lies in these.

She slammed the books shut and rubbed her temples. She was growing very tired. Crandle knew what she was seeking, and if it wasn’t for her Thrall Darim, she’d be dead. 

She snorted. 

She’d never tell him that, of course. He had grown overly open with her in the past few days with his constant quips and teasing. She’d have to discipline him.

With a sigh, she realized that as much as he was bound to her, she was bound to him. She could only harm him if he disobeyed, and even that had some wiggle room. His only duty was to protect her, and he did that well, despite his annoying tendencies.

Tonight, she permitted him to go around dicing and dancing. He had been begging for a while. She couldn’t imagine the scoundrel in a library anymore than she could imagine herself bowing to Crandle. Darim was many things, but a scholar was not one of them. The man had a brutish quality to him while also maintaining a boyish immaturity that she’d expect from a boy in his teens. Despite all this, he had heart. She couldn’t have chosen a better Thra -- no, Protector. He hated the term Thrall; It implied he was beneath her. 

Well, I wouldn’t say that’s false, she thought. Protector implied it was merely a contract he must fulfill. She wouldn’t let the semantics bother her. He was her bodyguard in essence. Whatever he wished to call it that was up to him. It was the least she could do to avoid his constant jabbering.

She ambled away from the library and nodded to the librarian on the way out.

She would have to do something about Crandle. Where was he getting the money for all the attacks on her? He was hiding something, and his wealth was surely one of those things. No one would expect a petty baron to send hirelings out searching for a Warlock. Lia scowled. The man would stop her at any cost from gaining what she wanted.

The Holler of Souls will be mine!

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She decided she would check on Darim. As pleasant as it was not having him around, she was becoming nervous being alone for so long. If those hired assassins came at her now, she may be able to fight off a few with her magic, but she would need Darim if one got too close. However insufferable that boy could be, he was quite exceptional with his sword-spear. 

She began to quicken her pace toward the tavern she left him at. When she entered, she didn’t spot him. Where’d he run off to? She was tempted to cast the spell bestowed upon her by the contract to locate him. She didn't think it was worth wasting a use. 

This was a city, and Darim was obnoxious. Surely, someone had seen him.

Then she noticed an old bartender cleaning a bloody mess amidst a mess of tables and chairs. Another large, muscular man wiped his nose with a bloodied rag. A fight happened here. Did Darim cause it?

“In the pig pens,” laughed a drunken man beside her. He was with some of his friends and they played cards together. “Where he belongs!”

“I swear he was too good at this game!” said another. “If he was cheating, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Cards, and a fight in the pig pens. Got him.

Lia rushed off toward the pig pens, dodging patrons and serving girls alike. Inside, she saw the swines roaming about snorting and ambling through the muck. And at one end of it was a bloodied mess of a man that was her Protector. It seemed fitting. 

His nose was twisted and his lips split. A large lump had sprouted on his brow that trickled a dribble of blood, mixing with the fetid muck that covered him from head to toe. Lia put her hand to her mouth and nose as she leaned forward.

“Darim!” she snapped. “Darim, you oaf!”

Darim stirred and rubbed his head. “I know, I’m an idiot.”

“That you are, you oaf. Get up and clean yourself off. I have work to do early in the morning and it's getting late. You’re coming with me.”

“Great,” he said, dragging himself away from a curious pig. 

“How did this even happen?” Lia crossed her arms and scowled. “You said you were off dancing and dicing. You didn’t mention a damn brawl!”

“Fates damn me, he had a faster swing than I expected. If I had my sword-spear…” He panicked until he found his weapon sunken in the mud. “Thank goodness. A brute he is, but no thief. Ha!”

“How did this happen?” asked Lia again. 

Darim blushed and averted her gaze. “It’s a long story. Jackal and I had some...disagreements.”

“It was a girl, wasn’t it?” 

“It was a girl. You should have seen her, Lia, a beauty from the Paradox Lands itself. You’d like her too. I know you would.”

“I’m not here to flirt or dance,” snapped Lia leading Darim out. “I’m here for business. Now here, I am going to clean you up.”

“How?”

Lia found buckets of water lined up by the wall. She channeled Red and controlled the surge of water to splash right against Darim who yelled in protest. 

“Fates!” he cried. “That’s ice-cold!” Sure enough, he was shivering.

She applied a few more buckets until he was barely presentable.

Lia grunted as she inspected him with a furrowed brow. “You look better, I guess. Still, take a bath before you sleep. I don’t want to smell you from across the room.”

Because of the pressing dangers from Crandle, Lia always decided to stay inside an inn that gave them a room together with two beds. She would need Darim close at hand if assassins came hunting.

Darim rolled his eyes and strode off. “I suppose we’re off to bed, then?”

“Yes,” said Lia. “As I said, early morning.”

“Fine.”

They walked in silence, away from the tavern and down the street. Darim was shivering now as snow began fluttering down. Lia sighed and turned to face him. He frowned in confusion.

“Hold still,” she said.

Fear seeped into his eyes for a moment. He never trusted magic enough to where he would ever learn it. It was something about how magic only ever hurt people. She supposed he was right, in a sense. The more she researched, the more she realized magic was only ever made to destroy. Even the color Green, which was meant to heal, would hurt as it mended. She would have to do something about his face as well. His nose seemed more crooked than normal amidst the smeared blood across his cheeks.

She channeled more red, allowing just enough for a withering heat to dry Darim’s clothes. It must have felt nice with that warmth.

“This is better,” he said. “Oh, yes, I could get used to this.” His clothes began to dry as steam rose from his shoulders and arms. 

Lia finished and she crossed her arms again. “What do you say?”

“Thank you,” he said with a smirk. “Never knew you could control your spells like that.”

“I didn’t either. I figured if you could amp the power, you could stymie it as well.”

“You mean, you didn’t know?” he asked.

“Of course I did,” she said. Oh dear, that was a little rash, but he doesn’t need to know. Shame and guilt drove a spike through her heart. Stupid, that was stupid! She needed to stop treating him like a Thrall and more like an actual Protector. He had done her well and he deserved better.

He isn’t expendable.

They strolled through the streets and Darim started whistling a slow love song she had heard before: Over the Mountains and Into your Arms. She blushed. 

Darim must have realized what he was insinuating with the tune and stopped with a clearing of his throat. 

They suddenly noticed the shapes emerging through the darkness of the alleyways around them and were gathering before the two with their weapons drawn.

Lia and Darim froze. Darim had his sword-spear out and Lia prepared Red and Blue. 

“Three more behind us,” said Darim. “Don’t turn. We don’t need them to know we know.”

Lia gulped.

The men in front numbered five. So that meant eight total. Oh no.

“I’m guessing Crandle sent you?” she asked. 

The hired men did not respond. They only sauntered forward, their movement like that of prowling wolves. She raised her hands and channeled Blue as her eyes caught the glint of steel in their hands.

Darim whipped his sword-spear around to greet the three behind them. Clashes of steel rang as Lia sent forth blasts of Blue, mind-altering rays, each being a sinuous blue arrow that left a trail of wispy, sapphire mist behind it. The arrows struck the men in the chest and they slowed their assault. A few of them shook their heads in confusion. Some of the more unfortunate victims doubled over and retched.

Lia sighed in relief. She hoped that Darim was finished with the other three. Where are the patrols? Surely, there were some roaming in the night. Besides the fight, the streets were unusually barren for a settlement of this size.

She spun and saw that Darim had felled two and the last dueled him now. The last had a mace that whirled in Darim’s direction. Her heart skipped a beat as it narrowly missed his face and arced around for another hit. Darim dodged that one as well, and thrust his sword-spear forward, slaying the last one. 

He charged the five Lia had incapacitated. She sent another wave of Blue to confuse the men. Darim made quick work of it, leaving one alive. 

He always surprises me with his wisdom.

Darim immediately began binding the unconscious man with the rope that he had in his pack. He’s always prepared for an attack. Arc! I chose my protector well. The man grunted as Darim finished his bindings. The extent of Darim’s injuries was evident as he lifted himself off the ground. 

“We have to move the bodies, lest someone will start asking questions,” he said. “No guards came. That means this was set up and paid off to the lord of the city.”

Lia nodded. She likely would have come to the same conclusion if her heart and mind weren’t racing. Then again, she was no soldier. Darim had previously acted as a caravan guard for a year and a sellsword afterward. He had already lived his life. Lia was just a young scholar with a dangerous ambition.

She was abashed when she snapped out of her thoughts to see that Darim had already dragged away each body. All but one who they planned to interrogate were tossed into an empty alleyway. She scowled. They needed to find out how many more had Crandle sent after them.

This attack meant Crandle sent different parties and the last bout of assassins was not only better, but faster at tracking them. The rest would likely be thugs as well unless the assassins were biding their time. There were so many questions yet so few answers. Crandle was shrewd. She knew that, and she knew that if possible, he’d want her alive for any information she’d found on the relic. He wanted it as much as she did.

“Damn it,” she whispered. 

Darim dragged the live thug away to another alley and waved Lia to follow. She entered behind him and saw Darim twirling a knife in his fingers. “He’ll wake up in a bit.”

“He’ll wake up now,” said Lia. He was gagged so her next move wouldn’t be risky. With Blue, she made it so the man would comply. With Red, she sent a pulse of pain down the man’s spine and the man jolted awake, crying through his gag. He wept and cursed and shook about.

Darim knelt in front of him and waved innocently. “You’re going to tell us how many more of you there are.” he commanded.

The man nodded quickly, fear in his eyes. The Blue had worked on him.

“I am going to remove the gag now,” said Darim. “You will speak quietly.” He twirled the dagger. “Or else.”

The man nodded violently and whimpered. Darim removed the gag, and the man sighed in relief. “Just please don’t kill me,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Better tell us the truth.”

“Crandle didn’t send me.”

“What?” asked Lia. “Who then?”

“You’re playing a dangerous game with these relics. Relic hunters are all around the world. And this one is special.”

“Who sent you, and how many more are there searching for the relic?” asked Lia.

“Crandle is the main one. But there’s Strigg who sent me. He’s weaker than Crandle.”

“Lord Strigg?” asked Lia. “How is he weaker? He’s a lord!”

“There are many things you don’t know, miss. They’re going to war, but not any kind you’d expect with battles and such. We thugs, assassins, footpads, and spies are all the rave now with this new war. Relic Wars. They need us to hunt down people that’ll beat them to it.”

“And how does Strigg know where we are and that we’re hunting the relics?”

“Crandle probably told him.”

It made sense. Even if Crandle and Strigg were against one another, they both benefited by seeing Lia dead with how much she knew. Her documents were valuable, what lay in her mind was as well. She shivered. What had she gotten herself into?

“How many more lords and nobility play in this hunt?” she asked.

“Many,” said the thug. “I don’t know the number. I keep my ears open, miss, but I’d be damned if I heard everything.”

“Tell us anything else you haven’t.”

“Strigg’s weaker, and you asked how. He’s a lord, yes, but all relic hunters want to hide from King Jarek that their main goal is not loyalty but power.”

“All nobles are like that,” scoffed Darim.

“Yes, but those you speak of are in it for royal power. Climbing up the ranks of nobility and worth. These nobles are in the hunt for true power. These relics will grant them knowledge and magic beyond comprehension. Think of how it would be if they got their hands on it. Makes me fear for my life. I joined because I needed money and as soon as I realized how deep that rabbit hole goes, I promised I’d be out of the game as soon as possible.”

“This was your last mission?” asked Darim. “Shame.”

“Please don’t kill me! I’ve told you everything.”

To Lia’s surprise, Darim said, “we won’t.”

Lia put her hand on his shoulder. She whispered in his ear “would it be wise?”

Darim turned back to her. “I’m not going to kill a man who’s of no harm to us.”

“He’ll tell them what we know. He’ll spill everything he’s told us.”

Darim’s face darkened. He turned to the man. “What’s your name?”

“Frane,” he stammered, Blue glossing in his eyes. He still maintained his personality, however. Lia was confident that he would have spilled even without the Blue, perhaps with more resistance, but it wouldn’t have been too difficult. This man was weak.

“Well, Frane,” said Darim with that boyish grin of his. ”Welcome to the crew.”