Dark Age Year 871
Second day of the Forth month
As the moonlight streamed into the room, casting a soft blue glow, Ozias and Faustina lay on the bed together, side by side, linking arms and holding hands. Breathing heavily, their sheets and blankets were drenched with sweat, bathing in the afterglow of passion. Ozias turned to her, pulling her closer to his chest, and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek, his hair falling slowly across his face.
He whispered to her, “I wish you would ease up on some of these potions. I feel like I’m about to pass out.”
Faustina gave him a warm and flirtatious smile. “I’m sure a farm boy like you can handle it. Plus, how am I going to know if they work if I don’t test them? You did well.”
“I only had a few drops, and I felt as fit as a horse, well, at least for a while.”
“Well, that means it’s working. If you want,” she said, looking over at the chest hidden in a nearby closet with a cheeky and knowing smile on her face, “How about I take a few drops, and you go relax while I take over for a bit?”
He looked at her with a troubled expression. “I don’t think I can handle that at the moment.” He then paused, and his face turned more serious. “You should be the one taking it easy. It’s not good for you or the baby.”
She smiled at him, grabbing his arm gently and placing his hand on her stomach. Although it was hard to tell, there was a small and growing baby bump. “I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine. I know what I am doing.”
“I know that, but you said it yourself. Pregnancy can be very dangerous for a mage. You’re my wife, not a pack male. I want you to take it easy. If you were to die, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you or our child,” Ozias stated, worry heavy in his voice.
“Only if I overdo it,” she corrected him. “Using a spell here and there and having a drop or two won’t change anything.” She then turned to the side quickly and, reaching into the bedside drawer, she grabbed a sheet of paper. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Azure will be down here shortly to help.” Ozias sighed as he looked out the bedroom window, the full moon and the twinkling stars in full view. “You’re right, let’s hope he doesn’t get here too late,” she then looked at him. Concern reflected in her metallic eyes. “Did the village elder say something again?”
He turned back to her and said, “He called you a witch and said I’ve been led astray by a wicked woman of loose morals.” The anger this time was clear in his voice. “I won’t let him treat our love like it’s some immoral thing. The other villages and village elders around here accept you, but not him.”
She grabbed Ozias head and turned it to face her, her eyes meeting his. “I won’t let him either, but nothing is going to happen to us.” Ozias smiled at her and brought her close again as the two of them shared another kiss.
Standing by the doorway of the bedroom, Tharos watched the display of love and affection with the same unmoved expression that painted his sharp and hawkish face. As he observed, the figures of Ozias and Faustina started fading into the background, as if they were made of morning dew. The room, which was bathed in the cool blue of the moon, was replaced by the warm yellow glow of sunlight. Unfortunately, something did happen, and many people paid the price for it. As Tharos turned away, he wondered if they had shown up in the village earlier, maybe they could have prevented this. It was wishful thinking on his part, but there was something about the two of them that moved him beyond reason. It was as if watching them together awoke something within him that he had forgotten a long time ago, something that was clawing its way to the surface.
The next ten days passed uneventfully, much to Rayner’s dismay and Cedric’s joy. There were no bandits, monsters, or undead hordes descending upon the village of Aurelia Silva. It was a job well done, and both of them had their fill of adventure and excitement for a lifetime, until the next job came, of course. Although he enjoyed the local festivities and the initial celebration of him slaying the necromancer, the food, drink, and dancing were to die for, and the feeling of being idolised and worshipped as a hero by the locals felt good. It was the type of feeling that stroked the ego. However, Tharos knew he couldn’t stay here. He had more important things to attend to. After the buzz wore off, it was time to discuss payment as their contract was soon to expire. Instead of taking more coins than agreed upon for this great deed, Tharos decided to request only one thing from Nico. He asked to be allowed to loot the mage’s study at the homestead. Though Nico was reluctant, Tharos convinced him, and Nico couldn’t reasonably deny such a request without appearing ungrateful to the serving villagers.
For the next few days, Tharos and his companions spent hours sorting through Faustina’s extensive library and choosing which books to take with them on the road. Most of the books were about medicine, various plants, and, to Tharos’s surprise, a few history books. While most of the history books only covered the last few hundred years, they would make good reading material for the road. Tharos hoped that once he was done reading them, he could use them to trade for other books.
As he searched through the place, he was taken aback by the homestead. Throughout the entire house, hidden within the cosy and homely atmosphere, he could sense traces of a wide range of emotions, from happiness to sadness, anger, grief, and more. These emotions were so strong that they lingered in the home for days, months, or even years. They were so powerful that he could taste them on his tongue. Sometimes, if he focused enough, he could see snapshots of the lives of the people who once lived there, mere echoes of what was once a house filled with life. It was like trying to remember a dream, the ethereal whispers conjuring up in your mind. You could acknowledge some of the things that happened in the dream with a vague sense of familiarity. But you were never fully aware of what was happening while experiencing it, or could recall it in full detail. First, he saw people whom he assumed were Ozias’ family. One by one, he saw them start to pass away, either through sickness, old age, or most tragically, death in war. Until Ozias was the last one standing, all alone in this house until Faustina showed up in his life. At first, they seemed to start as just friends, then trusted confidants, and eventually they became lovers.
Tharos witnessed a lot of things—their casual conversations, disagreements, arguments, and then private and intimate moments that made him feel slightly guilty and embarrassed, perhaps for himself or maybe for them. He was quite sure that even witnessing them made him feel like a rude voyeur. Some of what he witnessed was enough to make him blush, ever so slightly. However, the fact that he was able to see this, even though these actions and events happened several months to years in the past, only hammered in the fact that whatever they had was special. Normal love would never have left such a strong impression in this homestead, as the very halls, floors, and walls echoed this like ripples in a pond. This was a love that was quite rare—true love. The type of love that people would preach but could never reach, for while love had many layers and aspects to it, many people never got past the more practical and logical aspects of love. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, as true love was a luxury that very few could afford. The call of one’s own blood and what was practical often took precedence over any idealistic notion of love and romance. In many ways, people were still slaves to their nature, much like he was, and much like all living beings are. The only difference between the human race and mere wild animals is that with a strong enough will, one could, if only momentarily, overturn that nature.
However, spending time in this house and seeing these things reminded him of someone. It was more like it awakened something within him, a long-lost memory of the only woman he ever truly loved. Although he wasn’t allowed to love her, he loved her anyway, and she loved him back even though she was bound to another. Salaba was her name. She was a fiery woman with great intellect and passion, but all of that paled before her beauty. Her long, silky brown hair ended in perfect curls that she wore in a ponytail. It shimmered and shined when the sunlight hit it, and if you were to witness this at the right angle, you would see the contrast that the shadows reflecting off it would produce, creating a striking appearance to her hair. Her hazel-colored eyes sparked with a fire that burned brighter than the sun, and her soft and well-endowed figure reflected her gentle and kind heart. Although they longed for one another, they couldn’t be together because they were bound to others whom they loved just as much, if not more, than each other, and such a union would be a betrayal. However, for Tharos, simply loving her was sufficient, and she understood that. While intimacy could be taken away, love could not, and for Tharos, that was all that mattered. Perhaps this is why witnessing the shadows of Ozias and Faustina’s past together motivated him to take the actions he was about to take, despite considering himself above such behaviour. Life still had a way of surprising him, even now. If he had to provide a reason, the main one that came to mind is that they reminded him of her and the connection they once shared, even though it was long gone and buried.
On the final day, just before they were getting ready to leave, Tharos watched as Cenric and Rayner finished up the last task he wanted to do before they left. The grave site where Ozias had been buried had been re-dug and widened enough to fit another person. They found him buried there wrapped in cloth, his face sunken in as the flesh started to rot off his bones. Soon, there would be nothing left but a skeleton. Beside him, wrapped in cloth, was Faustina. As they placed her there, Tharos made sure to interlace their hands in a rictus embrace, their hands forever clasping one another for now and all time, until existence itself came to an end. After burying them both under feet of soil and replacing the tombstones, Tharos and his companions prepared to leave.
As they were heading to the village to collect their payment, Rayner spoke up. “I don’t know why you wanted to waste your time with that. We should have burnt her corpse and gotten it over with.”
“Yes, we should have, but I felt this was more appropriate.”
“Really?” Rayner looked at him puzzled. “You didn’t seem to care much before.”
“Well, consider this a rare exception to the rules,” he responded. Cenric then jumped in. “Well, I think it was nice that we did that for them, even if she was our enemy.”
Rayner snorted. “I am surrounded by milk drinkers and softies.”
“Well, there’s still one thing I still need to do. You can go on ahead; I will collect our coin and meet you there.”
“Are you sure? I am not going to say no if you need help taking on the village.”
Cenric looked at them both. “Please don’t. I don’t want any more people to die.”
He then looked at both of them and warmly smiled. “Nothing like that is going to happen. All I am going to do is balance out the scales of justice.”
“Whatever you want to call it. Let me know if you need a hand. Can’t have you have all the fun.” As they entered the village and Rayner and Cenric, after grabbing their things, made their way to the village, Tharos stood behind just to get the rest of their payment from Nico.
Standing in front of his house was Nico, carrying a small bag. As he handed it to Tharos, the coins inside jingled.
“Five hundred silver talents in total.”
“It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
Nico nodded. “Same to you. If you’re ever back in the area, feel free to come by and visit.” Before he turned to walk away, Tharos snapped his fingers as if he had forgotten something.
“One last thing,” he turned to face Nico. “During one of my patrols, I came across a few bottles of this.” He showed Nico a wine bottle. “It’s a bit of a strong vintage, but I think a man of your tastes will quite appreciate it. Would you like to take it as a token of friendship?”
Nico reached and grabbed the bottle out of his hands, holding it up to the sky and swirling it around in the bottle, uncorking it and giving it a quick sniff. “That’s quite a strong smell,” he said as he put the cork back in.
“Well, it is a rather strong vintage,” he said, hoping Nico would take the bait.
“I’m delighted to have some. Would you like to stay a little longer for a quick toast?” Tharos gave him a warm smile. “I am very sorry, but I have to be hitting the road soon. How about this take that entire bottle as a gift, and we can share wine the next time I come by.” Nico gave a small nod. “Very well, I will hold you to that.”
After exchanging a few pleasantries, Tharos left the village, catching up with Cenric and Rayner. As they were walking, Tharos reached into his pocket and pulled out a glass vial. Unlike before, where it was filled with a silvery-blue liquid, it was now empty. Where its contents went, nobody knew, except the young man who was tossing the glass vial up and down, catching it mid-air with a small and almost sorrowful expression on his face. Shaking it off, he looked towards the sky and the new horizon.
To be continued.
