Vanessa

[Peredhil]

~~~Vanessa~~~~

“Damn his eyes anyway.” Despite the amount of ale she’d knocked back, her speech was precise. True, she spoke Common Tongue instead of Elven. Elven was great for a subtle innuendo or a delicately placed daggered phrase, but for good barracks stableman guttersnipe cursing, nothing beat the Common Tongue. “The sonnova ORC.” She stopped, carefully tipped, squeezed the leather bag, and neatly caught the stream of wine without losing a drop. It was cheap and vinegary, but that’s why she saved it until her sense of taste was gone.

“No good rotten,” she paused for another drink, “sheep-lovin’ – why’d ya let Morlas the prissy kill you any way?” Only the slight weaving in her walk, as if she were on a storm-blown ship instead of a foul smelling alley, showed how drunk she really was.

 

And in the darkness, seven eyes watched her come.

 

She quit cursing Heinrich for dying while she chased this thought. Seven eyes? Seven? If there were eight eyes, she’d know there were four lurkers waiting, but seven? She stopped suddenly and swayed as her body dealt with lost momentum. Craning her neck forward, she focused as best she could through the alcoholic fumes. In the alley’s chill, four bodies crouched behind barrels and crates waiting for her to continue. They were hot with the eagerness to kill, and perhaps more. Rape? She fumbled for her short sword and reconsidered. In the narrow alley’s confines, her long knife would be more appropriate. Masking the motion with her body’s mass, she drew the knife after two tries. One. Two. Her muddled thoughts considered and rejected the idea of a cursed weapon. Naw, she was well on her way to being able to sleep without the nightmares tonight.

 

And they were in her way. In the best of worlds, she’d kill them all with arrows, but the town had the oddest laws about bows in the hands of anyone but the Merchant Watch. In her way. Way to go. Way to bed and oblivion. She started forward again. As she approached, their bodies warmed to a fever pitch of anticipation. Stupid men. Like stupid Heinrich, who got himself killed before she could decide just how she felt about him. Half of the time she’d thought that maybe she’d loved him, the rest of the time she’d wanted to hit him in that smug psionic head with a brick.

 

Hah! One of the thieves had one eye! She began giggling at the thought. How could a one-eyed thief pick a lock? With one hand?

 

As she started laughing, she passed between the first two, who leapt at her. Without weapons. With a shouted “Eep!” she allowed a stone to roll under her foot and staggered back, accidentally spraying wine into the face of the attacker on her right. Screaming for help and flailing her arms for balance, she raked her blade down the chest of the brigand on her left. Damn. Knife caught in the muther-orc-lovin’ belt. And where was Heinrich, who’d sworn to have her back in a fight? She kicked wine-soaked one in the groin with a hiss of satisfaction, while she grabbed the arm of the one she’d stabbed to give her balance.

Why, dear Heinrick the Dead was DEAD. Slamming her wine bag in her balancing brigand’s face, she absently took the club from his belt and slammed it on his stupid man skull. The crunch was wonderful to hear, but not the head she wanted to hit.

 

One-eye was starting to stealthily back down the alley ahead of her, but his partner, hearing the fighting in the dark, rushed forward to help. She’d wanted to help when the Messenger of the Gods came for Heinrick but Noooo. Morlas had to go kill him before she could. Truly pissed now, she whirled off balance, catching herself at the last moment as she spun by slamming the club into the attacker’s chest. His scream and the sound of shattering bones were simultaneous. Stupid stupid stupid. Attack an Elf of the Blood in an alley. Think that they could lay hands on royalty? She kicked the one trying to get to his hands and knees in the head. Their moans and pitiful cries for help rose around her as she dislodged her knife (on the second try) from the thief holding it for her. The smell of bowel that followed the blade’s removal nearly caused her to lose her liquid dinner.

 

Resuming her journey to the inn, she ignored the moaning heaps behind her as she staggered with renewed purpose. Probably got blood on her last pair of good boots too.

 

When she reached the far end of the alley, she had to maneuver carefully around the pulped remains of One-eye’s body. Great. That meant Maralasoth had taken a hand, or more appropriately, claw in the matter. There’s a moral for ya, never attack someone who owns a pet roc. Blinking owlishly as she switched visions to account for the increased light of the street, she didn’t see Maralasoth anywhere in sight.

 

She hoped that she’d wash her claws this time. Trying to get dried blood out from around the talons was an all-afternoon job.

 

Navigating a wide left, she maneuvered carefully down the center of the street. Just like the man to die and leave her with no wine to drown his memory!

 

“Damn his eyes anyway,” she muttered.

[Solivagus]

Richard bows to Peredhil, only a slight twitch at the corners of his mouth betraying his true enjoyment at reading the story.

 

One more reason for me to bring Heinrich back from the dead...

[Tanuchan]

Sorry for interrupting the flow, but... hey, when did Heinrich die? I think I lost a thread somewhere...

 

Great story, Pered! Loved reading it!

 

*hugs*

 

~Tanny

 

 

Edit:

Soli gently sent me the link to the story where Heinrich died. It's at a forum open for Pages and up, so I apologize to those who can't access it yet...

Edited October 29, 2004 by Tanuchan

[Peredhil]

Ooop!

 

Had it pointed out that Maralasoth is a FEMALE Roc. I'm sorry! I didn't dare try to get close enough to check her gender...

 

The story has been fixed.

[Equester]

A great laugh...can't wait 'till I make it to page and can read the rest of it...