章節 15: Pale face
A man garbed in brown pants, a black long-sleeve tunic, with mail peeking from underneath, and armed with a longsword and a Dirk was prowling the streets; he had just left the barracks.
Trotting behind him was a young boy in black chiton, and sandals. His belly was bulging, as if he hid a sac underneath his garments, and the mark on his left ankle identified him as a Naldean.
Artam walked quietly beside Eryk. The guards had said nothing when they both left, but he knew there'd be rumors.
The vice-captain loved young slave boys, Artam had heard a passing soldier say after one of their nights.
Eryk said not to worry about the rumors. If anyone asked just tell them, they did nothing of the such.
Artam was pretty sure he liked women, and he'd seen Eryk take a wench to a room before.
He took a closer look at Eryk.
Slender, fine-featured, always smiling. His hair was Raven black, not the darkest brown like his. With skin paler than a corpse's, and a black stubble, with patches of grey, grew underneath his chin.
His was a long, thin, dark face, handsome, and thin dark lips, always smiling.
His fingers were long and yellow. Occasionally he'd toss the apple in his hands, juggling and fidgeting with it.
"You know…" Eryk said as they passed the Serpent's Den, "I'm of a mind to send you back."
He took a bite out of the succulent apple, then he crackled.
Artam wasn't sure that was a laugh till he saw the ugly grin plastered on his face.
"But you know too much, ain't that right crow?" He said with bits of apple falling off his mouth.
Artam nodded.
"Hmmm?" Eryk raised an eyebrow, taking another bite off the apple, "Speak up. What's the matter? We slayed a demon together."
"Then again everyone in that barrackseither hates you or doesn't want to speak to you. Must be tough."
Artam smiled and said nothing.
"Suit yourself." Eryk shrugged, "Why do I even bother."
They continued their walk in silence.
They left the military district rather quickly, out into the commercial district
The scent of fresh bread wafting from the shops along the Street of Flour was sweeter than any perfume he had ever known.
A group of pigeons had stolen a small loaf of bread and were sharing it on a wall. But then a shadow fell over it, the pigeons fluttered into the air.
Vyke snatched the bread from them and greedily gobbled it.
A man was pushing a load of tarts by on a two-wheeled cart; the smells sang of apples and lemons and mangoes. Artam's stomach made a hollow rumbly noise, and Eryk chuckled.
They passed some residential streets, and soon they entered the outer settlements and the red light districts, behind the commercial district.
The red light district came alive with vibrant red lights from tinted glass lanterns.
A red-haired whore in a wisp of painted silk pushed open a second-story window.
"Yohooo, sweet strong man." She said showing off her curves, "I could keep you busy better than a slave boy."
She flashed a smile, but Eryk waved her off as Artam followed behind.
As they passed many whores would call out to Eryk.
"O Pale face need a bedwarmer?"
"I'd like to see you use your techniques on me, dear sir."
"Pale face! I'm over here, need another good time?"
"Pale face? I've heard of you. Need a hearth to warm them?" the last one said, raising her dress, revealing the fact that she wore no undergarments.
Artam gulped feeling his ear turn red and his body a bit hot.
Eryk turned every one of the attractive women down with compliments, and for the rather unattractive ones, he sent them away with backhanded insults.
Finally, Eryk entered a ramshackle building, three stories, with mortared brick walls and timbered window frames.
The sounds of music and raucous laughter drifted out and floated over. Beside the door swung a sign in Common Tongue.
Merylin's Hearth,
A brothel, Artam thought.
They went inside, through a crowded common room where a whore was singing raunchy songs while pretty young girls in linen and wisps of colored silk pressed themselves against their lovers and dandled on their laps.
Eryk paid no attention to any of them and walked deeper into the building.
A man was guarding a door, old and grizzled with a gladius by his side.
He tensed when he heard footsteps but relaxed once he saw Eryk.
"Palr face.." he muttered.
He stepped aside and opened the wooden door, allowing Eryk to pass. But he stopped Artam.
"The slave is with me," Eryk told the guard, placing a hand on his shoulder.
The guard nodded and allowed Artam to pass.
They entered winding hand-dug tunnels till they came out a different street.
The streets were less lively here and darker too. They seemed more dangerous, the absolute lowest and dirt of dirt lived here.
The atmosphere sang the song of danger and stagnation. Eryk didn't mind altogether.
As he stepped through, tall and fleshless, a skeleton in iron mail, always fidgeting with the handle of his longsword. People cleared before him.
And Artam followed in his shadow, sure not to cause trouble.
They walked for a while in the dark section of the city.
A whore was working in one of the dark alleys, two men dressed in rags taking turns with her.
In another alley, a young girl was sobbing while a burly old man was having his way with her.
This place still makes me sick, Artam thought.
Then he looked to Eryk, and all he got was a gaze with the message;
Stay out of it, it is none of our business.
Artam cursed quietly and followed without a word.
They entered a familiar street. It was deserted, with an occasional rat scurrying away. A madman wearing a light tunic was standing in the shadows on the opposite side of the road, counting the dust on his palm.
They reached a building, and a man appeared from the alley, sword out already, but Eryk had unsheathed his sword long before the man had finished walking out of the alley.
The man paused, the duo's faces in the dim moonlight.
"Pale face?" he muttered.
" 'now, anyone else with a face as pale as mine?." Eryk asked.
The man smiled and nodded, then he looked over Eryk's shoulder and saw Artam.
He frowned but said nothing.
A crow landed on the roof of the building across the street.
The man opened the doors to the building and motioned for them to get in.
Eryk was already halfway in when someone tugged Artam.
He didn't realize that someone was behind him until a shadow fell across his.
He turned around. The madman he noticed earlier was standing near him, looking at Artam with a discerning expression.
His ragged clothes were too big for his unhealthily slender figure. Underneath a messy grey beard, his face was dirty and gaunt, with remnants of his once handsome face.
Copper skin with patches of burn marks and a mosaic of scars. Yellow crooked teeth shone underneath his deranged smile.
Amber eyes gleamed feverishly like pools of molten gold. He was a complete ruin, And there was something strange in the way he looked at Artam. A hint of recognition glimmered on his face.
Artam backed away, the man took a step forward. He leaned into Artam, searching for something in his face,
"Finally." He whispered.
A strange smile appeared on his lips. His voice was cracked, sharp, and almost a whisper.
"Why did you do it?" he said.
Then his hands were around Artam's throat. Pressed hard, and trying with fervor zeal to unalive him.
"Why? Why? Why!" his eyes had a certain spark hiding in them, and his voice was pleading.
"We worked together! And we won! So why!" the man screamed.
Artam threw himself backward, kicking wildly, wrenching his head from side to side, but he was strong, so strong, he could feel the skin around his neck tearing, and on his lips the salt taste of tears.
"Answer me!" the man yelled.
In the periphery of his vision, Eryk had just noticed the disturbance and was shoving the guard away, drawing his sheathed sword. But he was too far to be of immediate help.
Artam dropped the sack of swords, and fought back. Hands flayed smacking the man's neck and clawing at his face, but the man was unfazed.
"Why?" he asked for the last time.
Feeling faint, and his leg giving way, Artam answered with a croak;
"I… don't… know."
Then there was a sudden gust of cold, and the air thrilled to the sound of beating wings. He heard a scream, and warm liquid stained his face and clothes.
The scent of it was iron and organic.
Vyde's talons tore into the man's face, and he shrieked, escaping from the bird as it attacked.
"Vyde! To me!" Artam ordered.
And the crow flew back.
The man held his wounds, shivering and whispering something unintelligible.
Then Eryk was there, quick as ever, even in mail. His sword swung down, but only the song of the air did it cut.
Somehow the man had evaded his attacks. He smiled and laughed and did a little dance.
"A warg and a warden." He smiled
"This is good." He said, "The old powers are returning to the common men."
Then he ran clutching the tear on his face, disappearing down an alley.
Artam coughed violently, getting the bearings of his feet.
"You good?" Eryk asked, still wary of his surroundings.
Artam nodded a reply.
Eryk sighed in relief and took him inside the building.
"Bring the boy some Ale!" he yelled closing the door behind him.
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