The only sound coming from the dusty mansion was the rasping breaths of a mummified human-shaped tube, it's yellowing silk and cloth heaving once, twice and brought down again. 5 seconds of total silence and it heaved again, as if trying to test out his decaying lungs, trying to figure out what is happening and seemingly successful in his awakening. An awakening that he knows that he hated and relished at the same time. After 200 years being held up in coffin, embroided by sculptures, rubies the size of plates, saphhires that glittered like lions' eyes, and blasphemous runes that shout for mercy from unknown beings, he knew that he was alive once again.
He hated being one of the living. Yet, the living can walk upon the world again and he has work to be done.
The one that brought him out of his dead sanctuary was no necromancer nor a mage, but a group of gravediggers or adventureres as they want to call themselves. Even now, they still ventured within his elaborated home. A home that once he called "Duralumin." They are either dead by now or in the process of one, for Duralumin is none but a series of deadly traps, designed to let no one but only the deserved and loyal to pass through the place.
The mummy opened his eyes, and through the thick cloth, he sees nothing. He remembered now his own true name, and the names that he use to bring fear out of his rule. A rule that expanded for thousands of years. One of those name was King Garldrun. Although people call him the other name, a name that he didn't invent and a name that he doesn't know to be totally true or a bogus lie.
Garldrun the Undead.
He smiled within that cocoon of his. Reaching out to the power inside of him, the one that courses his vein, he lashed out with his mind and torn apart the cloth. He struggled to move but managed to sit up. Looking around, he felt the heavy air of the place and decided the first thing he will have servants to do, was to clean the place up. After all, a King is not one unless for his palace.
A huge thud sounded from deep within the place, Garldrun whipped his head about, bones creaking and tendons strained. A series of shouts sounded, and the silence dropped like an anvil. Galrdrun knew his first dinner was served. His crusted lips turned into an arc. He was hungry. Very hungry. Two hundred years of being a mummy, and noticing it, tends to make one like that. He got up, and strolled into his home, all sorts of plan already forming in his head. He would reclaim back which was lost to him, and take the rest. Garldrun was a simple man, albeit meticulous.
*
In another place, the sun was rising up as the wind picked up the scents of the coming spring, making the people of the bustling trade town of Skyhord expectant of the next month. The cold was already melting away and business was picking up. Along the straight road that pierced through the humble town, a tower managed to present itself, its bricks felt old and the layers of plaster was peeling away to remind it's inhabitants of the age of the town. The first building in it, was the building that nobody knows what for, but a mead hall used to be there, until an accidental fire turned the place useless. But a thriving community had already taken deep root around it. They just wouldn't want to leave.
Now, a man of age where he should be getting wife, or wives, was tinkering with a piece of locket, trying to pry it open but proving futile in his attemps. The frustration on his face shows the work unsuccessful for a long time. He sighed and slumped into his stool. His robe, made of leather and seemingly to amplify his form so he looks buffed, was dirty and looked unwashed for days. His thoughts are dragging in his brain, trying hard to figure out the meanings of the locket he had on the table in front of him. "Open the locket and I'll pay 2000 gold. I want it in 3 days." That was the order given to him by a noble south of here, in his arrogant and proud voice. But the mage knew that uncertainty marked the essence there. Whatever that is, that is none of his business.
"Flames above, who in the nine circles did you steal this from?" he mumbled. A growing beard made his face look scruffy and unclean. His eyes wore black shadows to mark sleepless days. But what dragged him down was neither. For 2 days, he had forgotten about dinner and only one person managed to remind him of it. He felt guilty about not passing his times with that person and trying his hardest to remind himself that he is an important part of her life.
3 rasping knocks on the door as the handle turned. The mage stood up and faced it, thinking to straighten himself up first but thought otherwise. Even if he try to, he looks like a dirty beggar on the streets. The door turned sideaways to reveal a girl, some years behind the mage, with a frown on her face. And the mage knew he was stuck between a hard place and a mountain.
"It's been 2 days. Why don't you take a rest and at least eat something?" the girl's voice was sweet and sounded as if floating on the ears, albeit with a hint of worry and frustration. She was wearing breeches and a simple collared vest, leather and looks hanging on her shoulders. On top of that, an emblem that marked her as a Courier, an eagle gliding, was clearly shown on her loose vest. A small satchel was strapped to her waist, and a piece of paper was sticking out, with some flowers in it too.
"Spring is coming and everyone's getting ready for Ol' Nunix. You remember the festival, right? Where guys your age should be seen dancing around with some girl. I was spinning some baskets for them in exchange for some money. And there is a lot of letters suddenly to be delivered," she said, trying to make a smile. The worried frown was still there. "At least have dinner with me this time. I'm done eating alone."
The mage looked at his shoes, worn out and black. He tried to think up words. In his deep voice he said, "I need to do this work. With it, I can be assured of more dinner for at least months from now on. Andyanne, don't go."
The door slammed in front of him. Angry footsteps followed. Another slam as the tower seemed to shook a bit. Something tumbled behind him making a metallic noise, and a click. The mage didn't register in his mind at first, it was filling with regrets. Then he slowly turned back, only to have panick filled his chest as he found no locket on the desk. He dropped down below and started searching.
He stopped suddenly. Hands reaching out towards it. There it is, the golden locket, and it was opened. He took it in his hands and flipped it to see what was inside. It was a picture of a woman, black and white, with a smile as sweet as sugar candy. A tingle of magick made the hackles on his neck rise. Slowly, he reached into himself and released the power in his blood, touching the piece of magic in the locket, bound in that smile.
The picture moved. It seemed like it, then the mage concetrated and saw that the woman's mouth is moving, but no sound came from it. She was saying something, trying to tell him a piece of silence voice. Then it remained back. The bound magic was still there, but he can sensed it was somehow new again, like a room dusted after a long time. He smiled with a full teeth. I don't know what happened but thank the Divines it did.
He slipped it inside his pocket, his mind blazing again. There is another problem he needs to face. And this one is far more difficult than the last. He thought up ways to make up for the long days he confined himself in the place. Then he settled for one. But first, he needs to wash himself. With a light heart, he picked up a wash cloth and went to the rain barrels.
"Useless piece of lummox, thinking like an ox all the time, and always in that flaming room, talking to himself, eating all alone with his flaming work, and the flaming magic, leaving me flaming alone out here, piece of great hairy lummox he is. Well, he can flaming eat alone in that flaming room of his tonight. I don't care," Andyannne's furious mumbling continued on the main street. Those within earshot quickly raised eyebrows and avoided to get in her way. Even one of the Dun twins seemed to step out of her way, and not make eyes with her. The peddlers from the city out south howled its wares, and saw her. They seemed to lower their voices down a bit after that. The blacksmith, Master Ruffban, was oblivious to anything, but even he felt the fury and stopped for a while looking around, a piece of iron steel in his hands, bended to form something. "Fury of a woman is to look into the serpent's eyes with challenge."
She found herself sitting in her usual spot, beneath a tree that overlooked the entire town. The tower which she called home, was usually the beacon that marked the place as Skyhord. She lived there for 6 years now, and the trade town was like the back of her hand, and she can pace the entire place blindfolded. For 6 years, she was considered to be fortunate to live in that place, with the mage. The town seemed to think it's fortunate. That was not her true home, though, for she came here with the mage when she was small, after her parents died. She tried not to think about it. Her memory before this place was blurred somewhat, since she was small and she was the one who buried it deep down inside trying to forget. Being a courier wasn't all that bad, and she was great at running with her figure. And it was fun, meeting with a lot of people. The money she get was worth the work.
But everyone knew that she was rich, even though she doesn't show it. Everybody knew about her and the mage. She as lots of money. Well, lots of money for a commoner. A noble would've lots more but she was considered more adequately financed among the town folks. Some of the peddlers even know of this. The only piece of proof she has is the necklace on her neck. About 2 years ago, the mage had given it to her for her birthday. It was the only thing that she knows that is important to her other than the mage. At the thought of him, she exhaled outwardly, sagging on the tree. She knew he had done so much for her, and he probably doesn't deserve that kind of attitudes toward himself. But she refused to back down to that feeling. He left her alone to dine with only herself. She realized she just wanted to have a bit of attention from him. Her cheeks flared up.
"Here," a hand appeared behind her, holding a cloak. "The sun's setting and the nights are cold," the deep voice somehow soothed her feelings. A delicious smell waffed up from him when he sat down beside her to look out over the town. Some of the peddlers are packing up, closing the stall. Some of them even had carriages to load their items into. The inn's Guard, Lum Hughin, was lighting up some of the torches. But the sky was clear and the moon's light is sure to be bright. A man, holding a stick with a ball of light, came from the other end of town. He hung the ball stick at the center of town, on top of a pedestal. The light shone a soothing yellow light.
"He's not afraid of that thing anymore, is he?" the mage asked.
"Why don't you ask him?" Andyanne sulked. He hug herself beneath the cloak. It was getting cold, and she doesn't want to give into the man beside her.
"It's done. The work. I guess we can eat together tonight," the mage turned and in his hands was a big plate of pie. The crust was even steaming with warm heat. The mage inhaled and seemed to taste the pie in his mouth. "Mistress Fogturn was quite mad at me when I asked for this, saying it's too late and whatnot. Well, nothing that a bit of gold wouldn't solve. And a smile."
Despite herself, Andyanne smiled. Mistress Fogturn, wife of Berrault Fogturn, was a plump woman, sweet on the outside and strict of the inside. Nobody steals from the bakery when she's in charge, and she is always in charge. But she do have a weakness, and that is however big or tedious the work is, she will do it. Once, a peddler asked for 50 breads for his travel companions, the woman chased him out with a roller, knocking him on the head, screaming how prepostorous was the request. But the next day, the peddler had 50 breads, and was happy, even if he had a huge bulge on his head.
The mage conjured up a blunt knife and cut out a piece, handing it over to the girl, warning her of the heat. It was blueberry pie and even though it was hot, it was a welcome warmth. Winter may be ending but spring can be pretty cold here. She dipped a finger into the center and licked it. Her cheek turned red at the taste. Her favourite.
"This is great," the mage said, with a mouthful.
"Don't talk when you're eating," Andyanne smacked his shoulder.
The mage swallowed. "You're getting busy nowadays, running back and forth. You know you don't have to do it, if you don't want to."
"I need to do something to pass the time,"
"Are the twins still bothering you?"
"They're just being kind,"
"Making eyes and that kind of smile is asking for trouble from me,"
"Well, they do deserve some words on how to treat a woman,"
"Oh, I'll explain to them how treat a woman. With a cudgel."
Andyanne laughed a bit. The twins are always after her, and she knows that. They had been friends for a long time but soon enough, the boys will become men, and men are always like an ox trying to find guidance. She picked up the cooling pie on her lap and chewed. Mistress Fogturn never dissapoint.
"Do I need to say sorry to you? I know I've been... less attentive to you. For some reason, there is a lot of people that needs a mage to do things. I'm no errand boy but the money will ensure our future. I should've paid more attention to you. Sorry," the mage said. His hands were on his lap, legs stretched out. The robe was still there, and it smelt of burnt things. His face was clean shaven now and no dirt was on it. His deep blue eyes, like deep beneath the ocean, was strong and clever. But a sense of toughness was in them too. He looked handsome with it, a strong and clever face, like he is always thinking about something.
"Probably. If you give me another piece of the pie," Andyanne licked her fingers.
The mage looked surprised. He smiled and handed over another piece. He went on to his piece too.
"You know, I'm still trying to figure out what you did with this necklace," Andyanne reached inside her shirt and and brought out a cylindrical glass, held by frames. The glass was blue in colour but the line and frame was deep golden, almost seemed like bronze.
"I didn't do anything to it. Well, maybe a little but nothing big," the mage said.
Andyanne looked at him, disbelievingly. The other person took a bite and shook his head.
"Really. I did nothing much," he said.
"I still don't believe you,"
"Oh, cut me some slack, will you?"
Andyanne laughed. Her chest was full of warmth and even though the cold winds bite at her face, she felt nothing of it. This is all she could wished for. The mage, her favourite food, safety and a memorable view. The mage. Her own brother beside her. That's all she needs in the entire world.
"Alvuin," she whispered.
"Yes?" the mage answered.
Andyanne looked at his brother, noticed that she thought aloud. She shook her head and continued eating. She remembered the day when he was just like this. Always full of surprises, and when she seemed down or sad, he always perked right up. Seemingly to know what she wants, and when she want it, the mage was always there for her. She hoped, prayed to anything, that it will always remain like this. She couldn't bear the thoughts of losing her one own important thing in this world to anything. That's why when he went to travel, for days she couldn't sleep and worry filled the nights. Only 3 days later, he came back with a sack full of souvenirs from other cities and places. She smiled again at the sight of him, at him a tired smile.
"Do you remember our parents?" the mage suddenly asked. Looking down at the town. "I tried but it's all a blur."
"Me too," the girl answered, frowning.
Both her and his parents were supposedly killed, and they ran from the house before they themselves gotten into the same fate. They tried to remember their faces, father and mother alike, but the memory is not there. It's just not there at all. Like someone had wiped that space clean of anything.
"Don't worry about it. I'm always here for you," the mage said. He turned and smiled.
Andyanne melted and smiled back. "I'm happy to hear that," she leaned on his shoulder, looking at the bright moon and the activity down below, hoping with all her might that it will remain like this forever...
