The Penny Lich, page 2
“No.” Moses says. “I thought I would take Aarik out for a walk, help him get to know the city a bit more. A simple patrol.”
“And me?” Sycilia asks.
“You and Elliot have some clerical work to catch up on.”
“What does that mean?” Sycylia asks, a hint of suspicion in her voice.
“We have to go back to the Penny Lich and make amends with Noodle, as well as figure out how to get that sword from him.”
“You’re joking.”
“Elliot doesn’t joke. He’s way too straight laced for that.” Moses says, slapping Elliot on the chest.
“I joke, sometimes,” Elliot says fidgeting with his glasses.
“Really?”
“Sure.”
“Do it then. Make a joke.” Moses grins, then turns to Sycilia and waits.
“Um.” Elliot begins to think, “Well, I uh.”
“Any day now, bud.”
“Yes, right, well. Where’d you get those boots?” He points at Sycilia’s boots, “Your mom?”
“Yeah,” Sycilia responds, “She gave them to me before we left our village. They’re a reminder of the family we left behind to come here and help.”
“Oh,” Elliot is taken back. Moses’ smile widens. “Well, it hurts a lot more when the other guardsmen say to me, so...”
“Wow,” Moses interrupts, “A truly awful attempt at lightening the mood, Elliot. Anyway, where’s Aarik?”
“Why are we being sent back?” Sycilia asks. “We did the job, finding the item, don’t they send in reclaimers or something.”
“Why do you think you got hired on?” Moses said. “We are the reclaimers. That’s what you and I and your brother do.”
“Ok, so why don’t you go do it.”
“Because I didn’t personally insult Noodle, who happens to be an up and comer in the dark market. The Mistress wants peace in the city, not gang wars. So you need to go make it up to him.”
“Why the shouting?” Aarik says, still wrapped in a sheet, but with a belt around it. He sips on his coffee.
“Ah, Aarik.” Moses says. “You and I are going on patrol. I heard that Noodle took your bow yesterday, and I would like to buy you a new one.”
“No.” Aarik says too quickly.
“Wha... what do you mean no?” Moses asks.
“People, talking, no bow, sunlight. Evil. No thank you.”
“Aarik. He is your superior officer, and he’s doing something nice for you.” A motherly tone coming from Sycilia’s voice. “Go put on pants.”
A tired and annoyed face crosses Aarik, then he turns. “Fine. As long as I don’t have to be a part of the dehanding part two.”
“Good boy.” Sycilia smirks. “Shall we go make amends with a gang leader and his ancient magical death machine?”
The marketplace
“Your sister is pretty stern, eh?” Moses asks, his copper, rough worked skin shining below the bronze colored armor. He makes his way down a major street, a bit of meat in his hand. People swarm around him and Aarik. Aarik’s sepia complexion is covered by the darkening of his hood, his white hair showing slightly.
“Sure.” Aarik offers. Then continues forward.
“And, uh, you two have been siblings for a while.”
“Yup.” Aarik takes a swig of his flask.
“That’s coffee right? Cause you know there’s no drinking on the job.”
“Am I on the job?” Aarik replies without looking. The shadow over his eyes masks his ambivalence.
“Well yeah. You’re in the state’s armor, and you’re technically on patrol.”
“Then I guess this is technically coffee.”
“Ha. Right. Of course.” An awkward moment passes. Moses nods and smiles at a woman selling produce. “But seriously, you can’t be drinking alcohol on the j—”
“What’s with your eyes, man?” Aarik interjects.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? You got some crazy eyes, like they’re magic or something.”
“Whoa now.”
“I mean, they glow like silver in the light, do you have some wizard skills and stuff? Do you do magic?”
“Stop.” Moses stops and puts his hand on Aarik’s chest. “Please don’t say that out in public.” He looks around to see if anyone is watching, then pulls close to Aarik. “It’s a family trait.”
Aarik scrunches his brow. Turns his head while keeping his eyes on Moses. “You mean, like a draconic bloodline thing?”
“No. Ha. No.” Then louder than necessary for the conversation, Moses continues, “My power comes from the Divine and It’s chosen! I am gifted by the Lord!”
“Man, you really drank that fruit tea, huh?”
“Seriously, though.” Moses continues walking. “It’s a trait that’s been in my family for generations. At this point it basically gets treated as an omen that The Divine have chosen me to be a leader of the people.”
“That’s cool.” Aarik gives him the down up look and then takes a swig of his “Coffee.”
“Look, I know that you and I haven’t really spent much time together, but as the leader of our little crew I thought it would be proper for me to buy you a new bow. So you can feel more comfortable on the job.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Aarik begins, but Moses continues.
“No, Really. You and your sister have been great so far. You two came from your village and filled the opening for reclaimers, and I know Elliot and I are very grateful. And I really hope that you could consider the two of us friends sooner, rather than later.”
“Look man,” Aarik says, “I don’t keep friends. Ok? I’m here because this opportunity gets Sycilia away from our family, and me away from Haberdashery Woods. I’m here because the guild down there taught me a lot, in some ways it taught me too much. Because of that, I just... I just don’t keep friends.”
“Come on, man. What about with a new bow?” Moses picks a bow off the merchants table. “And what if I put a bow on that bow?” He places a little bow on the wood.
“You gonna pay for that, buddy?” the merchant says impatiently.
“Give me just a second, sir.”
“Don’t go rubbing the heck outta that wood. It costs extra to rub the wood.”
“What?”
“What, I’m just saying, there’s a wood rubbing fee.”
“That’s insane.”
“Maybe, but that’s how I gets half my income. Lotsa sickos around here.”
“What do you say, Aarik? Can I buy you this bow? Make you part of the team?”
Aarik looks at the bow, then back at Moses. He shifts to the hunched over man, who points to a sign with an odd looking stick figure doing odd things to the instrument of death. “3gp to rub the wood, ya sicko” it says.
“I told you Moses, I learned a lot down in Haberdashery woods. You don’t need to buy me a bow.” Aarik holds out his hand.
The Penny Lich
Noodle holds Aarik’s bow in his hands, it’s light wood marked with dark stains and wrapped in leather and string. The top and bottom branch out like antlers of an elk. The wild elf pulls the arrow back on the bow and aims for the apple on the head of his bandit.
“Now, ‘old still.” And as he thinks about letting go of the string, there is a displacement of air. A small pocket of ozone fills the world, then collapses on itself. Noodle is no longer holding the weapon and the arrow tumbles to the ground. He looks around. There is no sign that the bow exists, or ever did.
The Market place
Aarik stands with the bow in his hand, smirking and looking it over. Moses stands with an open maw. His face is covered in shock. He looks at the bow, then at Aarik. Then the bow again.
Moses puts his hands on his head and gasps out the breath he had been holding. “Shizz, that was real magic.”
Down the road from the Penny Lich
Elliot is having a panic attack. He breathes in, then breathes out, hunched over and waving air on his face.
“Elliot, are you gonna be ok?”
“Yeah,” He replies. ”I mean, no.”
Sycilia looks around in embarrassment.
“You need to get a hold of yourself. You’re a part of The Magecore for Divine’s sake. You’re a reclaimer. Start acting like it.”
“No, you’re a reclaimer. I’m a Cleric, Sycilia. And I’m not even one of the fight-y ones. I’m a cleric of knowledge, that’s my god. Knowing stuff. I’m a glorified accountant. I read books and do numbers.” He looks up at her, vomit on his lips, the bush from the night before covered in a fresh coating. His beach sand skin flush, terror in his eyes and his glasses askew. “I’M A FREAKING NERD!!”
“Yeah, you are,” Sycilia agrees. “I say we focus on one thing at a time. Right? You break down the objective and figure out specifics.”
“Yeah, right.”
“So let’s focus on getting that sword. Then apologize.”
“What? No. We should get on his good side first,” Elliot says, straightening up.
“Look, man, I know you’re the bookish type, so let me lay this out for you. If we make good with him, then take his sword, he’ll be mad at us again. If we take the sword, then find a way to make good, then we might actually find some peace with this guy.”
Elliot thinks for a moment. “That actually makes sense.”
“And if we kill him in the process, then we don’t have to apologize at all.”
“No!” Elliot reacts. “You can’t kill him.”
“You’re right, I can’t kill him. We can kill him. Together.”
“No, I’m not saying, like team work, lets murder him. No one can kill him.” He says quickly as he sees Sycilia pulling her sword out to prove him wrong “Like, no one should kill him. If he dies, then someone else gets everything he owns, and we have a new player on the board. Why do you think the Mistress is so keen to keep things peaceful with this guy?”
“Cause she’s sleazy.”
“No. She’s tactful. New gang and guild leaders are unknowable. How the power goes to their head, how they react to things. They are wild cards.”
“We alway are. But that’s just how the game is.”
“So instead,” Elliot continues, “she watches them for a bit and figures out how to use them. Keeping peace is more than just keeping people safe; it’s keeping people contained.”
“So we can’t kill him.” Sycilia begins to put things together. “‘Cause The Mistress doesn’t know how to use him yet? And if someone else takes his place, she has to figure out how to use that guy?”
Elliot puts his finger to his nose. “Exactly. We need to be tactful.”
“Got it,” she says. She then quickly ducks around a corner and begins moving down the
Penny Lich side alley. Elliot looks around for a moment, unsure of what just happened, then moves to follow her, his cobalt blue scarf flapping in the wind behind him.
He comes around a corner to the backside of the Penny Lich and sees Sycilia holding her sword to a man’s throat. His terrified eyes pleaded from under thick brows, and shaggy hair. From his stature, he looks up at the warrior woman.
“Whoa!” Elliot exclaims, his hands raised.
“Please sir,” that man gasps for air Sycilia’s sword touching his flesh. “I don’t know what she’s doing. Please help me.”
“Sycilia, put the sword down.”
“This guy is unloading something for Noodle. I saw him yesterday in the tavern. When we came, he went and hid a crate in the back.”
“I’m just the guy bringing food and drink. Please, I don’t know what you want from me.”
“The truth, you cur.”
“Again, with the racist language,” The man says.
“Shut up. Show us what’s in the crates,” Sycilia demands. The man grabs the lid to the first crate he can reach and pops it off. Bottles of wine.
Sycilia looks, seems thrown off, then demands, “Another one. That one!’ She points to a crate still on the carriage. He looks at the sword. She lowers the blade and he goes to the crate. More bottles. Sycilia looks desperate, she goes to a third and opens it, then a fourth, all dark ceramic bottles surrounded by straw. “Damn it!”
“Come on, Sycilia,” Elliot says. “The guy runs a tavern. I get that you’re frustrated, but we can’t go around messing up businesses for people.”
“So what? We just go in there and hope he gives up his most powerful magical object? What are we supposed to do, Elliot?”
“I don’t know, Sycilia, but we should let this guy get back to work.” He nods at the man they had threatened. The man grabs several boxes, stacks them and picks them all up. Elliot looks impressed by his strength. He claps Sycilia’s shoulder, “come on, lets go figure this out”
“Can we find someone for me to beat up?” She asks as they turn to walk away.
“Sure. Whatever you want.”
“And then go get drunk?”
“Not till after your shift. But then you can get as drunk as you like.”
“Being in the military sucks.”
“I know.”
“HEY!” A voice rings from behind them. Noodle stands in the alleyway. He looks pissed and ready to fight.
“I hear you’re disrupting my work flow. First, you come into my bar and I beat you all, then
you come here and mess with my guys. Do I need to beat you proper and leave you for dead to get you off my back?”
“You’re sure I can’t kill him?” Sycilia whispers.
“Yes.” Elliot says, keeping his eyes on the wild elf.
“Hey I’m talking to you, bookworm. Getting your hands cut off wasn’t enough? You need me to cut something else off for ya?”
“We’re just leaving,” Elliot says.
“That’s right you are. Cause that’s what you do, isn’t it Sycilia Willowmight?” he shouts at them. Sycilia freezes, anger pulsating from her face.
“I heard about your little gang war down south,” Noodle continues. “About how you thought you could play warrior-princess, and ended up in a temple for a month. But then you got engaged to the Militia captain and decided to join up with them. So what are you doing here, eh? Guess you couldn’t handle being a whore in a small town, needed some real action here in the big city.”
“NO!” Elliot shouts. Sycilia looks over and Elliot is walking toward the wild elf. “You might be a big shot here, Noodle the Elf, but that doesn’t mean you get to speak to my partner that way. Apologize, now!”
“Are you serious?” The elf chuckles.
“Elliot don’t.” Sycilia tries to catch him.
“There are lines, sir, and you crossed it. I demand you apologize to her,” Elliot says as he towers over the elf. Noodle keeps laughing.
“No.” Noodle says finally. “You want an apology from me? You’ll have to beat it outta me, rugrat.”
“You think I won’t?” Elliot’s eyes gleams with righteous anger. Fire burns inside him. Noodle laughs again.
“What are you gonna do?” Noodle points at Elliot. “Look at you, you can’t hold a candle to me. I’m sorry, bud.”
“Don’t apologize to him for his own body.” Sycilia speaks up.
“Oh, the lady speaks up now, haha. Ok. you two are perfect for each other.”
“I can speak for myself, elf.” Sycilia says. She seems to remain calm as Elliot fumes. “And here’s what I see. A little man trying to play like he’s a big deal. Like he needs to prove that his mommy was right when she said he was special.”
“Don’t bring moms into this,” Noodle looks disappointed at the low blow. .
“Yeah, don’t bring moms into this, Sycilia.” Elliot turns his back to Noodle. “You don’t want to lower yourself to his standards.”
“You guys want an apology, fine, then beat me from it.”
“Oh we will,” Sycilia says.
“Yeah!” Elliot agrees. “Wait, what?” he says, turning back around.
“He’ll duel you, right here right now.”
“Him versus me? Not even a fair fight! You need at least five more!”
“You get just him.” She pushes.
“Wait, what? I just wanted him to apologize.”
“Exactly. We’re getting it! Let’s do this, Noodle!” Sycilia says.
“Right!” Noodle begins, but then stops, “Hold up. Not here, not now.”
“When?”
“Never?” Elliot throws in.
“Tonight. In the bar,” Noodle suggests. “I can make some money off this.”
“Fine, but if we win, we get all your fun toys.”
“My toys?”
“Everything you’ve stolen from people.” Sycilia says.
“Fine, and if I win?”
“You can have his hands again.”
“Well now, hold on...” Elliot shakes his hands.
“I dunno.” Noodle thinks it over. “A pair of cleric hands will probably sell for a pretty
penny on the market.”
“But, I like my hands.” Elliot says to Syclila..
“And you can have me, I’ll quit the Military and I’ll come work for you.”
“Deal!” Noodle says.
“Good.”
“Fine.”
“Well then, farewell.”
“Have a good one.”
“You too. I mean... screw you!”
Noodle and Scycila storm off in opposite directions. Elliot is left standing in awe. “What... What just happened?”
Picking up the bottle to take a swig, Elliot feels that the bottle is empty. Then a clanging comes from inside. He pops the cork and sees something inside it. “Hitta Glitra,” Suddenly his eyes flash with a neon light and a glow sits on them. His breath exhales in uncertainty, then he looks at the other crates and he gasps in shock.
Military Bar
The dim light of the military bar flickers with torches, candles and a small fireplace. The place is clean, a feat to be praised after the party that kicked off the night before. Aarik looks at the table he fell from, knocking him unconscious, rubs his head, and takes a swig of “coffee.”
