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Don’t Forget Me - The Ivory Rose
Raindrops patter on the hard leather shoulder pads of my coat, flicking against my cheek. The streets flood with puddles as the heavens open from above. Pools of soiled water seep into the soles of my shoes; soaking through my socks. I grimace at the squelch of the leather and rubber under my feet, as the soiled water squeezes between my toes with each step.
'I should have bought some new shoes when I had the chance' I think to myself as I look up at the raging sky. Thunder rumbles across the clouds and I return my gaze to the sticky mud floor. Continuing my way to the location that I had been given earlier that day. I take out the small note from my inside pocket to remind myself of the tavern's name. 'The Ivory Rose', sneering as I read the name, ink smears my fingertips. "Fucking rain" I grumble, shoving the note back into my pocket, my sodden fingers tear holes through the softened fibres, before wiping away the drop of rain from the tip of my nose.
I walk around the corner into a thin alleyway lit by soft-candled windows. My heart begins to thump in my chest as the reality of my situation settles in. I clutch my chest as I press my back against the damp wall of the local bakery, heaving a heavy sigh in an attempt to regain control over my anxieties. Lifting my gaze, 'The Ivory Rose' sign peeps out from the end of the narrow street.
"No turning back now..." dragging myself towards the end of the meagre alleyway. I shift my weight to the right and face the entrance of the tavern. My chest rises, as I suck in humid air. Bringing a shaky hand to the door, I pause, relaxing into the coolness of the rain-drenched wood. The oak door creaks as I am greeted with dim lights and the intimacy of a bard's lute, mixed with the stench of ale and sweat. I scan the tavern for my client, the squelch of my soaked shoes earns me the occasional glare from the locals. Meeting several suspicious gazes, anxiety creeps back into my chest. Gliding my thumb over my forefinger with a gentle caress as I continue my search over the numerous tables. Each table is covered with a white lace cloth and mugs of mead and ales.
Frowning, I saunter to the bar, keeping my head low. Bottles of liquor line the back wall, while kegs of ale and mead busy the floor behind the mahogany counter. I tap the rich wood and order a mug of mead, paying with a silver coin. Turning my attention back to the busy tavern and search for my client, chewing the inside of my lip nervously. "Where is he... sneaky twat" I mumble into my cup with frustration, pulling out the teared-up note from my coat pocket. I study the ruined paper for any clues of his appearance at today's meeting. 'Nothing' Sighing in defeat I crumple the note, dropping it to the floor and bringing the sweet liquor to my lips.
Tap, tap, tap...
Turning my head to the gentle attention grabber in my right ear. A man lazily sits on the hind legs of his chair, tapping a gold coin on the table in front of him. Even though his face is draped in a black leathery hood, I feel his eyes burning into mine. This is my client.
Sipping my mead to mask the sudden dryness of my throat I stand and stride to his table, sliding the adjacent seat behind me to sit across from him. 'Stay calm, I can't fuck this up' I think to myself, feigning my relaxed position into the chair's back and baring my gaze into his. A grin emerges from his shadowed profile, grubby hands outstretched towards me. A usual, but disdainful greeting.
"Hello Silas"
'this better not be the job that kills me'.
I think to myself before I smile back.
"Enoch..." I reply bluntly, my hand fiddling with the rim of my mug. "What do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?" I raise my brow at the man across the table from me. Enoch leans in, his stale breath laced with bitter ale wafts into my nostrils. "I need your services, I'll pay you. Of course" his grin curls into a frown as he reaches into his trouser pocket. Pulling out a small white envelope, and slides the envelope across the wooden table towards me. My eyes flick between his shadowed face and the bright bait under his hand. 'This is absurd, why must he prolong his unpleasantries' I think to myself, reaching to take the envelope from his grubby fingers. Enoch snatches the white card from my grasp, holding it between two fingers. Tauntingly waving the letter in front of me, "Very eager Silas... There are conditions to this job" his frown switches back to his malignant grin. I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek and scoff. "Fine, what are the conditions?" Enoch lets out a hearty laugh, "You cannot be seen, nor caught"
"Obviously" I scold back.
Enoch shoots a harrowing glare into me from behind the shadow of his hood. "You cannot break the intended possession". Feeling my frustration pique, I stand from my seat. "And here I thought you had some faith in me, perhaps I am wasting my time" I snap, taking a large gulp of my drink and slamming the mug back onto the table. I want to leave, unbeknownst to him the last job Enoch bestowed on me left me bedridden for weeks, even though 'the spear of time' had been safely delivered as instructed. 'Any chance to leave this client is one I will jump at desperately, they can't afford to eat if I'm dead.'
"WAIT!" the echoing defeatism of Epoch draws me back from my thoughts of escape. I turn to face him, nonchalantly raising my eye brow. "I know you're good, lad. Sit, please?" he pleads gripping the edge of the table.
A small smile twitches at my lips, he's desperate, as desperate as I am. "Fine" I return to my seat and imitate his previous tapping on the table. "Make it quick" Enoch slips the envelope over the table and I take it from his hand hesitantly. "I know I've asked you to do some... Precarious jobs in the past" I nod to his obvious statement, 'Precarious is an understatement, outrageous, stupid and utterly deadly would be better descriptors' I stare at the note within the envelope, as my mind runs away with flashbacks of each moment that my life has flashed by my eyes.
"So?" Enoch looks at me expectantly, I hadn't even read the note. 'Come on Silas, pull it together'. Holding a finger up to silence him, I pretend to ponder over the note as I take my moment to read its contents. Thump, my heart pounds in my chest as my eyes drift over the name of my targeted relic. 'Crith Omdat' thump, my gaze darts up to meet Enoch leering at me. "Have you gone mad?" I laugh, placing the note down on the table and lingering my fingers over the paper.
"I know, It's risky..."
"Risky?!" I interrupt him before he can continue. "You play no part in the risk, Enoch. The Crith Omdat is heavily guarded, not just by guards. But by runes, sigils and other wards I don't know anything of. What this job is... It's a fucking suicide mission." I seethe, 'What am I getting myself into?'
"I understand your hesitations Silas, but this job ain’t easy and... You're the only one I trust" he whines pathetically at me, leaning onto the table by his elbows like a child begging their mother for the last slice of cake.
"Trust... No, I'm just the only one you view as desperate enough to put their life on the line for some coin" I throw back venomously. Enoch's mouth hardens into an indignant scowl and leans back into his chair. "Fine, you're right! I'm certainly not going to throw myself into the mouth of that witch's wards." he licks his lip as he ponders his position.
"You owe me" A malicious grin cascades across his lips revealing his yellowed teeth. 'Shit' Gulping down in defeat, I raise my hands. It's been seven years since Enoch bailed out my family from losing our home, I always wondered when the favour would be cashed in... But my life? I must be more useful to him than this relic.
"What's the relic worth" I begin my negotiation. "Well, that's not really..." Enoch retaliates before i interupt his dismissal."10'000 crowns?" I state, playing with the note in my hand. "More or less" he scowls back. "I want half of the relic's value in payment, I believe it to be fair for my life. If I am to die then it will ensure that my family can survive for a while after my death" My eyes flick up from the note in my hand to rest sternly on Enoch. 'My personal grim reaper'.
He nods "I’ll deliver you half of the full pay in the morning. Meet me by the library at 4 o’clock” he scribbles the meeting site onto a spare linen napkin previously held in his back trouser pocket, charcoal smudging on his fingers. Setting it on the table as he stands, Enoch leans his face into mine.
"Don't fail me, Silas"
© Danifrayz
#firstchapter #fantasy #fantasyfiction
'I should have bought some new shoes when I had the chance' I think to myself as I look up at the raging sky. Thunder rumbles across the clouds and I return my gaze to the sticky mud floor. Continuing my way to the location that I had been given earlier that day. I take out the small note from my inside pocket to remind myself of the tavern's name. 'The Ivory Rose', sneering as I read the name, ink smears my fingertips. "Fucking rain" I grumble, shoving the note back into my pocket, my sodden fingers tear holes through the softened fibres, before wiping away the drop of rain from the tip of my nose.
I walk around the corner into a thin alleyway lit by soft-candled windows. My heart begins to thump in my chest as the reality of my situation settles in. I clutch my chest as I press my back against the damp wall of the local bakery, heaving a heavy sigh in an attempt to regain control over my anxieties. Lifting my gaze, 'The Ivory Rose' sign peeps out from the end of the narrow street.
"No turning back now..." dragging myself towards the end of the meagre alleyway. I shift my weight to the right and face the entrance of the tavern. My chest rises, as I suck in humid air. Bringing a shaky hand to the door, I pause, relaxing into the coolness of the rain-drenched wood. The oak door creaks as I am greeted with dim lights and the intimacy of a bard's lute, mixed with the stench of ale and sweat. I scan the tavern for my client, the squelch of my soaked shoes earns me the occasional glare from the locals. Meeting several suspicious gazes, anxiety creeps back into my chest. Gliding my thumb over my forefinger with a gentle caress as I continue my search over the numerous tables. Each table is covered with a white lace cloth and mugs of mead and ales.
Frowning, I saunter to the bar, keeping my head low. Bottles of liquor line the back wall, while kegs of ale and mead busy the floor behind the mahogany counter. I tap the rich wood and order a mug of mead, paying with a silver coin. Turning my attention back to the busy tavern and search for my client, chewing the inside of my lip nervously. "Where is he... sneaky twat" I mumble into my cup with frustration, pulling out the teared-up note from my coat pocket. I study the ruined paper for any clues of his appearance at today's meeting. 'Nothing' Sighing in defeat I crumple the note, dropping it to the floor and bringing the sweet liquor to my lips.
Tap, tap, tap...
Turning my head to the gentle attention grabber in my right ear. A man lazily sits on the hind legs of his chair, tapping a gold coin on the table in front of him. Even though his face is draped in a black leathery hood, I feel his eyes burning into mine. This is my client.
Sipping my mead to mask the sudden dryness of my throat I stand and stride to his table, sliding the adjacent seat behind me to sit across from him. 'Stay calm, I can't fuck this up' I think to myself, feigning my relaxed position into the chair's back and baring my gaze into his. A grin emerges from his shadowed profile, grubby hands outstretched towards me. A usual, but disdainful greeting.
"Hello Silas"
'this better not be the job that kills me'.
I think to myself before I smile back.
"Enoch..." I reply bluntly, my hand fiddling with the rim of my mug. "What do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?" I raise my brow at the man across the table from me. Enoch leans in, his stale breath laced with bitter ale wafts into my nostrils. "I need your services, I'll pay you. Of course" his grin curls into a frown as he reaches into his trouser pocket. Pulling out a small white envelope, and slides the envelope across the wooden table towards me. My eyes flick between his shadowed face and the bright bait under his hand. 'This is absurd, why must he prolong his unpleasantries' I think to myself, reaching to take the envelope from his grubby fingers. Enoch snatches the white card from my grasp, holding it between two fingers. Tauntingly waving the letter in front of me, "Very eager Silas... There are conditions to this job" his frown switches back to his malignant grin. I run my tongue along the inside of my cheek and scoff. "Fine, what are the conditions?" Enoch lets out a hearty laugh, "You cannot be seen, nor caught"
"Obviously" I scold back.
Enoch shoots a harrowing glare into me from behind the shadow of his hood. "You cannot break the intended possession". Feeling my frustration pique, I stand from my seat. "And here I thought you had some faith in me, perhaps I am wasting my time" I snap, taking a large gulp of my drink and slamming the mug back onto the table. I want to leave, unbeknownst to him the last job Enoch bestowed on me left me bedridden for weeks, even though 'the spear of time' had been safely delivered as instructed. 'Any chance to leave this client is one I will jump at desperately, they can't afford to eat if I'm dead.'
"WAIT!" the echoing defeatism of Epoch draws me back from my thoughts of escape. I turn to face him, nonchalantly raising my eye brow. "I know you're good, lad. Sit, please?" he pleads gripping the edge of the table.
A small smile twitches at my lips, he's desperate, as desperate as I am. "Fine" I return to my seat and imitate his previous tapping on the table. "Make it quick" Enoch slips the envelope over the table and I take it from his hand hesitantly. "I know I've asked you to do some... Precarious jobs in the past" I nod to his obvious statement, 'Precarious is an understatement, outrageous, stupid and utterly deadly would be better descriptors' I stare at the note within the envelope, as my mind runs away with flashbacks of each moment that my life has flashed by my eyes.
"So?" Enoch looks at me expectantly, I hadn't even read the note. 'Come on Silas, pull it together'. Holding a finger up to silence him, I pretend to ponder over the note as I take my moment to read its contents. Thump, my heart pounds in my chest as my eyes drift over the name of my targeted relic. 'Crith Omdat' thump, my gaze darts up to meet Enoch leering at me. "Have you gone mad?" I laugh, placing the note down on the table and lingering my fingers over the paper.
"I know, It's risky..."
"Risky?!" I interrupt him before he can continue. "You play no part in the risk, Enoch. The Crith Omdat is heavily guarded, not just by guards. But by runes, sigils and other wards I don't know anything of. What this job is... It's a fucking suicide mission." I seethe, 'What am I getting myself into?'
"I understand your hesitations Silas, but this job ain’t easy and... You're the only one I trust" he whines pathetically at me, leaning onto the table by his elbows like a child begging their mother for the last slice of cake.
"Trust... No, I'm just the only one you view as desperate enough to put their life on the line for some coin" I throw back venomously. Enoch's mouth hardens into an indignant scowl and leans back into his chair. "Fine, you're right! I'm certainly not going to throw myself into the mouth of that witch's wards." he licks his lip as he ponders his position.
"You owe me" A malicious grin cascades across his lips revealing his yellowed teeth. 'Shit' Gulping down in defeat, I raise my hands. It's been seven years since Enoch bailed out my family from losing our home, I always wondered when the favour would be cashed in... But my life? I must be more useful to him than this relic.
"What's the relic worth" I begin my negotiation. "Well, that's not really..." Enoch retaliates before i interupt his dismissal."10'000 crowns?" I state, playing with the note in my hand. "More or less" he scowls back. "I want half of the relic's value in payment, I believe it to be fair for my life. If I am to die then it will ensure that my family can survive for a while after my death" My eyes flick up from the note in my hand to rest sternly on Enoch. 'My personal grim reaper'.
He nods "I’ll deliver you half of the full pay in the morning. Meet me by the library at 4 o’clock” he scribbles the meeting site onto a spare linen napkin previously held in his back trouser pocket, charcoal smudging on his fingers. Setting it on the table as he stands, Enoch leans his face into mine.
"Don't fail me, Silas"
© Danifrayz
#firstchapter #fantasy #fantasyfiction
