The Shadow of the Past - Sorrel Darkfire gets a visit
Jun 8, 2022 9:02:30 GMT
Velania Kalugina, Andy D, and 2 more like this
Post by stephena on Jun 8, 2022 9:02:30 GMT
Sleep hadn’t been easy since Phlegethos, except at the temple. Sorrel had stayed there for the past few nights and one morning had walked to the pilgrim’s baths to steam the darkness out of her on the hard stone benches and shock herself awake with the cold plunge in a deep tiled pool.
Afterwards, apparently purified, she had returned to her room to find a slender, masked drow who she recognised by his House insignia despite the darkness swathing him.
“Callimar,” she nodded formally. “At your service etcetera.”
The drow barely nodded back. “Look at you Sorrel Darkfire,” he sighed, half sneering and half despairing, eyeing her naked body dispassionately. “The world has beaten you.”
She smiled. “You are mistaken. Sometimes a heart is broken so often that it’s more scar tissue than anything else. But if you’re lucky, life keeps breaking your heart again and again and again until it stays broken open for good.”
“And this is a good thing?”
"If, instead of growing bitter and passing your pain on to others, you let something beautiful in - real hope, not the fragile tinsel of adolescent dreams, then yes. After that, no matter what is thrown at you, you never lose faith.”
“And this is why you’ve been MIA for coming on eight years – maybe more. Because you’ve found your faith?”
“No… I think I guarded clients as we walked through burned villages refusing to stop and help a few too many times. So when revenge was done and I felt empty, I filled it helping the warriors whose strength is not to fight and the refugees on their unarmed road. I’m an underdog soldier. There’s people whose wounds cannot be nursed. They are confused, accused and misused and unable to afford us. And when you do that for a while, it gets even harder to help a rich kid get his runaway bride back.”
“Very pretty, I applaud you, I am so jealous, you have won, can we talk now?”
Sorrel laughed and reached for her clothes. “Of course, but you started it with your little broken manifesto. It’s your dime you were wasting. You would not travel this far merely to examine my wounds.”
“I would not, much as the sight might please me,” the drow nodded. “I have come to offer you a job.”
Sorrel raised an eyebrow as she shrugged on her studded leather chest guard.
“The House has been following your work and would like to employ you in a matter of some delicacy.”
Sorrel paused with her weapon belt in hand and regarded him carefully. “How closely?”
Callimar let the darkness fade a little, so his features were clear. “Closely.”
“Then you know where I’ve been, and you know what’s coming.”
“We do,” he met her eyes. “We do not think your chances are good.”
“What did you think my chances were in Hell?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Also, not good. You were lucky to have the paladin and the goliath.”
“And yet here I am, and I have a job already – indeed, I’m late for it.”
“You still fight for money, then, you hero of the people?”
“I was born for the House, I was trained for the House and I die in the House. I do not give away the skills it bestowed upon me.”
“Master Hasan himself has asked for you.”
“I am truly honoured, but it was Master Hasan himself who took my vow – that I would never desert my post, that I would see the job through to the death of the enemy, the protection of the client or my own sacrifice. I would not break that vow even – indeed, most especially for him.”
“What could he offer?
“The House to deploy alongside us when the dragons come.”
“That is not possible.”
“Then Callimar, we can talk about our lives and if you have children now and how the gardens are tended but we cannot deal… and I do have job for which I am late.”
Callimar sighed and rose to his feet. “Then we are done.”
“I am sorry. It is, in a strange way, good to see you.”
The drow stepped towards the window, turned back towards her and smiled for the first time. “Don’t fuck it up, Darkfire. Dragons are not easy. Remember your training. I will be back.”
“I cannot wait.”
“And I will leave the terms of the job in this envelope. We will know if you open it.”
He sniffed, jumped from the window and vanished.
Afterwards, apparently purified, she had returned to her room to find a slender, masked drow who she recognised by his House insignia despite the darkness swathing him.
“Callimar,” she nodded formally. “At your service etcetera.”
The drow barely nodded back. “Look at you Sorrel Darkfire,” he sighed, half sneering and half despairing, eyeing her naked body dispassionately. “The world has beaten you.”
She smiled. “You are mistaken. Sometimes a heart is broken so often that it’s more scar tissue than anything else. But if you’re lucky, life keeps breaking your heart again and again and again until it stays broken open for good.”
“And this is a good thing?”
"If, instead of growing bitter and passing your pain on to others, you let something beautiful in - real hope, not the fragile tinsel of adolescent dreams, then yes. After that, no matter what is thrown at you, you never lose faith.”
“And this is why you’ve been MIA for coming on eight years – maybe more. Because you’ve found your faith?”
“No… I think I guarded clients as we walked through burned villages refusing to stop and help a few too many times. So when revenge was done and I felt empty, I filled it helping the warriors whose strength is not to fight and the refugees on their unarmed road. I’m an underdog soldier. There’s people whose wounds cannot be nursed. They are confused, accused and misused and unable to afford us. And when you do that for a while, it gets even harder to help a rich kid get his runaway bride back.”
“Very pretty, I applaud you, I am so jealous, you have won, can we talk now?”
Sorrel laughed and reached for her clothes. “Of course, but you started it with your little broken manifesto. It’s your dime you were wasting. You would not travel this far merely to examine my wounds.”
“I would not, much as the sight might please me,” the drow nodded. “I have come to offer you a job.”
Sorrel raised an eyebrow as she shrugged on her studded leather chest guard.
“The House has been following your work and would like to employ you in a matter of some delicacy.”
Sorrel paused with her weapon belt in hand and regarded him carefully. “How closely?”
Callimar let the darkness fade a little, so his features were clear. “Closely.”
“Then you know where I’ve been, and you know what’s coming.”
“We do,” he met her eyes. “We do not think your chances are good.”
“What did you think my chances were in Hell?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “Also, not good. You were lucky to have the paladin and the goliath.”
“And yet here I am, and I have a job already – indeed, I’m late for it.”
“You still fight for money, then, you hero of the people?”
“I was born for the House, I was trained for the House and I die in the House. I do not give away the skills it bestowed upon me.”
“Master Hasan himself has asked for you.”
“I am truly honoured, but it was Master Hasan himself who took my vow – that I would never desert my post, that I would see the job through to the death of the enemy, the protection of the client or my own sacrifice. I would not break that vow even – indeed, most especially for him.”
“What could he offer?
“The House to deploy alongside us when the dragons come.”
“That is not possible.”
“Then Callimar, we can talk about our lives and if you have children now and how the gardens are tended but we cannot deal… and I do have job for which I am late.”
Callimar sighed and rose to his feet. “Then we are done.”
“I am sorry. It is, in a strange way, good to see you.”
The drow stepped towards the window, turned back towards her and smiled for the first time. “Don’t fuck it up, Darkfire. Dragons are not easy. Remember your training. I will be back.”
“I cannot wait.”
“And I will leave the terms of the job in this envelope. We will know if you open it.”
He sniffed, jumped from the window and vanished.