It had been a week since Rashad started working for Jollum and the Black Spade Construction Company. The ad had been true to its word: long hours and good pay for it. Sometimes the days were too long, but at least he was paid for the longer days just the same. He was able to eat and pay the innkeeper of the Stonesthrow Inn for his room and board. While he was taking care of his business, he was making fast friends with his co-workers.
The sun beat down the shoulders of the construction workers as the sun rose higher in the sky. Rashad began to think of what he’d do tonight. He didn’t know if he was gonna go straight to sleep, eat dinner or what. He just wanted the day to be done with. While he helped Wyle hammer nails into the frame of the structure, the carpenter asked him “So, where you from?”
“A small town called Miniga, in North Cordoba. You?”
Wyle answered, “I’m from Rashomar City.”
“I’ve only been there,” Rashad remembered, “once.”
“Ah. I’ve never been to Miniga. What’s it like?”
“Well, we—“ Rashad started. He was stopped by what he saw just outside the gates of the work site. Inia was headed into Moira’s Loom House, dressed in an ankle-length dress with long sleeves. Her hair had been pulled back into a bun that rested on the back of her bronze neck. Her trademark blue cloak and gold clasp flared up as she hurried into the Loom House.
“Not a chance. Not in a million years,” Wyle said as he caught what Rashad was looking at.
“You mean Inia? What do you mean by that?”
“You’re looking at her again, Rashad. That’s the Benefactor’s niece. You can’t get next to that, and it’s not for a lack of the girl trying.”
“I know, man,” Rashad said and then added, “That’s how I GOT this job.”
“That’s really great,” Wyle said, “but don’t think just because you got this job on account of her AND the fact that she likes you is any reason to believe that you two will get together. Hand me some nails.”
“Just you wait, man,” Rashad said. He felt a mischievous spark rising in his heart, a spark he hadn’t experienced since he was a kid. “I’m so in there, I’m gonna—“
“Wyle! Rashad!” came Jollum’s yell across the construction yard. “You two working or what?”
Both answered “Yes, sir”. Wyle turned to Rashad and said in a low voice, “Told you to hand me some nails, man! Gimme those…” The carpenter snatched the nails from Rashad and said, “We can take as long as we want on this project, so long as we work. So we can work and talk, man.”
Rashad nodded and Wyle continued, “So, what’s up with you tonight?"
“I don’t know, man. Sleep or something, you know.”
“Me and the guys are headed to Egress Bar tonight,” Wyle said. “You’re welcome to join us for a night of wine and women, man. Love to have you.”
Egress Bar, Rashad thought. Probably don’t have enough money—oh, wait, these people barter, they have no damned money—so he said, “How are we gonna pay for that stuff?”
“Don’t worry about it, man. Jollum’s got us covered.”
“The foreman?” Rashad asked. “What’s he got to do with Egress Bar?”
“GUYS!” Jollum yelled across the yard. “WORK!!!”
“Okay,” they yelled back and Wyle said, “At quitting time, we’re all headed for the Egress Bar.”
Rashad nodded in understanding and went to go help Barcrab with his loads. As he walked over to the Enigman, he couldn’t help but ask himself how they were gonna pay the barkeeper.
He could easily see the items in his hand in the fading rays of the sun, its form barreling down the southern sky to return the next day. What Rashad couldn’t see was the purpose of these hard chocolate candies would serve tonight in the Egress Bar. “Women love candy” Wyle explained. “We’ve got lots of that, so we’re good for the night, baby!”
The four construction workers Cyan, Rashad, Wyle and Barcrab the Enigman made their way to the Egress Bar. The structure was lit up with strange lights and didn’t seem very inviting. The big dude with the slick white hair and the axe didn’t seem very friendly either. Despite the unfriendly demeanor, the bouncer smiled when Wyle approached. His smile showed a tongue piercing when Wyle gave him a handshake of greeting. “’Sup, man? How’s things been?”
“They’re goin’ alright, Donovan,” Wyle said. “We’re gonna get that shipment of slate sometime this week. Looking forward to it.”
“I see.” A puff of frost escaped Donovan’s lips as he said, “Come on in and enjoy yourselves, gents.” He stepped aside to let Cyan, Wyle and Barcrab through, but stopped when Rashad tried to enter. “Who’s this? Is he with you guys?”
“You mean Rashad? Yeah, he’s cool with us” Wyle said over his shoulder.
“Ah. Welcome to the Egress Bar, friend.”
“Thanks,” Rashad said. As he passed by Donovan, he took note of the man’s axe. It was crafted from a single piece of ice and both edges reflected the interior lighting in them. “Nice axe,” he said.
Donovan turned with a raised eyebrow and said “What?”
“Your axe. It’s very well made.”
“Right” the ice mage said. “Axe. Thanks.”
Rashad turned and followed his coworkers into a door at the back. The four of them descended a stairwell that spouted boisterous laughter and yells of carousal. Wyle pulled open the door at the bottom and the foursome entered the real Egress Bar. Rashad had to adjust his eyes to the sudden burst of colored light that assaulted his eyes and he had to shout over the yelling in the bar from the groups of patrons near the stage. He leaned over to Wyle and yelled, “What the hell is all this stuff?”
“Egress Bar, baby! We’re gonna get drunk and we’re gonna get our dance on and we’re gonna get next to some girls and have a damn good time!”
“Second that motion,” Cyan shouted as he watched a sleek Enigman cat-woman strut past and twitch her tail in his direction. “I’ll see you chumps later!”
As Cyan followed the cat-woman about, a little voice squealed “WY-LIEEE!”
“Hey baby, what’s up, Zappa?” Wyle shouted as Rashad turned to see whose voice this was. Rashad looked and saw that Zappa was a rather short yet bubbly Halfling waitress. She had her hair pulled away from her sideburns with a bandanna and also wore different sized shawls to cover her hairy body. The girl has a great smile plastered on her face as she hugged Wyle tightly.
“By the moons, Wyle! I haven’t seen you in a long time! Good to see you!” Zappa put down her tray on the bar and shouted, “What’s up, Barcrab?”
“NOTHING,” the Enigman said in a speaking voice loud enough to be heard over the din. “JUST WORKING. SAME OLD THING.”
“I hear you, boy.” Zappa looked over at Rashad, shouting, “Who’s Mister Silent here?”
“That’s my buddy, Rashad,” Wyle shouted over the other conversations. “He’s new at the site for the town hall. Go say hey.” Zappa nodded and moved to Rashad’s seat at the bar and spoke as loudly as she could without yelling.
“Hey sweetie, I’m Zappa. You need anything?”
“No, thanks,” Rashad said. He didn’t know what it was about Zappa that turned him off, but he wasn’t receptive to her false charms. He turned away from the waitress and looked to the bartender for his drinks. “Hey bartender,” he shouted over the noise.
The bartender got up from the lower shelves and walked over. She had long black hair that covered the right side of her face and spilled down to her lizard-skin vest. Her intense eyes studied Rashad briefly before she shouted, “Pick your poison, man.”
“Fireflower Special. Can you do it?”
“You bet, baby. Let Shuya take care of you,” the bartender shot back with a wink. She then turned around and produced a Fireflower Special. “One Fireflower Special, baby.”
“Wow! That was quick!” Rashad exclaimed. As he reached for the glass, Shuya pulled it away.
“This one isn’t yours, buddy. He ordered one too.” She pushed the glass off to Rashad’s left and a large red claw stopped it. Barcrab put the glass to his mandibles and drank deeply of the vermilion liquid, all the while staring down Rashad hard with his eyestalks. Rashad whirled around in his seat and looked over the Egress Bar.
The bar itself was much larger than the bar upstairs. The walls were carved with relief pictures of birds painted white against backgrounds painted blue, stretching all the way from the stage to the emergency exit at the back and back up to the bar. The carvings swirled in the orange light and ruddy shadow of the burning braziers and the occasional flash of soft blue magical light from one of the holes in the ceiling. Each flash showed the patrons clearly in its light; an Enigman here, a Halfling there. Rashad turned back to the bar to see Shuya approaching with his Fireflower Special. He pulled the pepper away from the lip of the glass and took a swig, feeling the familiar draft race down his throat. It burned a little, just like it should and he thanked Shuya with a hard candy. Turning back to the action with Fireflower in hand, Rashad’s eyes passed over the stage and he saw a shirtless Elven bard tuning his guitar on the steps of the stage.
Looks like a show, Rashad thought.
The cool air of the night beat against the windows of Blackheart Estates, whirling dead leaves and loose dirt around the tombstones in the backyard. The wind leapt over the mansion and swirled up the rising path to the front door, railing against it with a chill gust. Sweeping under the edge of a windowpane, the chill made it inside the manor.
Blackheart Estates, a shadowy mansion whose windows did strange things with moonlight, spread out from the main room to the east and west. To the east was the kitchen; the west held the dining room and the northern room was the sitting area that overlooked the backyard cemetery. The windows from each room flashed back some moonlight through their windows and open doors, all of which focused onto the area just left of the stairs.
Leading up to the second floor, pictures of pastoral and urban scenes hung on the walls leading up to a big portrait of the mansion’s owner: Blackheart. Painted in fine oils, the portrait depicted a younger Blackheart. She wore an ornate fez and was dressed in a red qipao dress. The collar of the dress lay high against her graceful neck, which jockeyed for attention with wavy golden earrings. It was a flattering picture that showed how the Benefactor looked twenty years ago, whilst still in the Academy. Behind the door closest to the portrait lay the study, where an ageless Benefactor sat in meditation.
Blackheart flipped through an old magic text as she sat in her favorite chair. The chair was composed of the bones of common creatures. A vyndal’s spine and ribs were curved to provide back and seat support while a human hipbone worked as a headrest. Dodran horns curved from the seat to provide armrests. The Benefactor rested her elbows on these horns as she scanned over the proper way to shift the earth. Digging in the earth wasn’t her cup of tea anymore, so she searched by candlelight for a faster way to disinter corpses. As Blackheart skimmed the pages, she felt a tingling on her neck.
He was calling again, she thought.
Blackheart put the book down and crossed the room. She went through the door that led to the candle-heavy casting chamber and stepped into the arcane circle. The edges flared a green light that flooded towards the center. The light crept up the dark mage’s body and swallowed her, casting her into a well of surging green energy. The well had tendrils of bright purple energy swirling at its outer fringe, reaching inside itself to lash the mage’s prone form. It was in this way that Blackheart’s benefactor spoke to her, for she could not comprehend the name of her Lord. To ponder the name of her Benefactor would mean her utter annihilation.
“My child,” the touch said, “I summon YOU to me.”“My Lord,” Blackheart spoke as she grit her teeth in pain. “What is thy bidding?”
“My time to walk the realms again has come. I shall return. YOUR assistance will help me.”She thrashed in pain from the lashings that went through her cursed body and her corrupt soul. “Oh, master, what could a lowly being as I offer my god?”
“YOU will grant me Freedom” a larger tendril struck. “I have been able to help you from my location in this prison, but now YOU will help me. The moons of this doomed world spin aimlessly as monuments to the mockery of the Grand Truth. They are made of a falsehood, yet even the Truth resides in falsehood.
“The celestial body R’zandol will be high in the blessed nothing of the night sky three days hence. Upon the night that R’zandol rises high, YOU will perform a mass blood sacrifice in my name. When the sacrifice is performed, I will walk the realms once more…and YOUR quest for vengeance will be over, for I too have a grudge against the world of the Living.”Blackheart could feel her entire body pulling apart at the joints, every bit of her being split into different directions. The pain she felt was comparable to the pleasure that her time of reckoning would come soon. A grimace spread across her mouth and a laugh escaped her lips as she screamed, “Your will be done, Lord?”
“Yes, and in this YOU will succeed. IF YOU DARE FAIL,” the violet tendrils raged, “YOUR PUNISHMENT WILL BE BEYOND COMPREHENSION…”The verdant vortex began to collapse on top of Blackheart, sending wave upon wave of unending pain coursing through her body. The dark mage’s scream split the green tide as it faded into the night, leaving her prone in the circle of magick and dreaming of a way to achieve her new goal.
CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5
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