Episode 1: "Suffer a Witch"
When Eristan had been told that his first quarry was a prisoner of ‘formidable size', he wasn’t sure what to expect.
He pulled to a sudden stop just before toeing a bedraggled "safety" red line on the floor of the cell and gazed at what he considered to be the largest, most ‘formidable’ man he had ever put eyes to. The man wore only a pair of threadbare pants and no shoes. His long, black hair hung about his face, obscuring his features. The man had been shackled to each far wall, the chains causing his broad chest to splay wide, a safety measure that went into place when the key was used. The man stood no less than six and eight tall and though he had been in the prison for nearly a decade, he had lost little or none of his muscle mass.
But all of this paled beside the man’s skin. Tattoos took up significant residence upon every inch of the man’s visage… patterns and designs that both dazzled and frightened the smaller man. They swirled about his shoulders and wrapped about his back like a living entity and swept across his middle, ending (or not ending) beneath the barrier of his pant line and picked up again at the ankles and feet. The tattoos were not in the Queen’s vernacular, and Eristan could not read them. He immediately wondered if his instructions had been errant and indeed this man did not even speak the language of the United Colonies.
He cleared his throat. The man did not look up or indicate acknowledgment of his presence.
“Prisoner, known only as Rawyri of Tersia, I am Sir Eristan of the United Colonies. I have come to bring you a correspondence from Her Royal Majesty.” He paused.
Nothing.
“I have been authorized to make you an offer… of release… from this establishment, by order of the Queen.” He paused again. What if the giant man actually didn’t speak Colonese? How was he going to relay his message?
“Her Majesty does not give anything for free, Sir Eristan.” Came a smooth, deep, almost hypnotic voice from the hulk in chains. His grasp of the language exceeded even Eristan’s own. “What does she want in return?”
“Her niece has been taken…” Eristan said.
“Ah…the rub.” The large man chuckled to himself.
“She asks that in exchange for your freedom… you locate her niece and return her to the Royal Palace.”
“I think I’ll stay right here.” Rawyri said.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Three square meals a day. A roof over my head. Time to read…” Rawyri teased evenly. Eristan squirmed a moment. Would he be able to entice this man to help him or not?
“There’s one thing you do not have here.” He said.
“What? Freedom? I don’t have it out there either.”
“Revenge.” Now the large man’s head swung up, casting his black hair back from his tattooed face. Eristan stepped back, regardless of still being behind the safety line.
“I am a Tersaen monk of the tenth order, Sir. Revenge does not sustain a man’s soul.”
“Her niece was taken by an old acquaintance… the one called D’mitur...”
And with this one name Eristan knew he had this man’s full attention. The man locked his dark eyes on him.
“D’mitur is dead. We killed him ten years ago.”
“He is very much alive, for want of a better word… and he has the Queen’s only niece. She’s willing to set the likes of you free to capture or kill this man.”
“He cannot be captured . . . or killed if what you say is true."
“You have done it before.”
“Apparently not well enough…” He fixed Eristan with a gaze that was unnervingly calm now. “And I didn’t work alone.”
“We are aware of your . . . requirements. A fine crew and a ship will be awarded to you.”
“A crew of Her Majesty’s fine men and women I assume.”
“Her very best.”
“Her very best won’t be enough. They will all be dead in a month. I’ll need my own people, and I’ll precure my own ship.” Eristan cleared his throat. He had been given the Voice of the Queen in this matter, but he feared Rawyri was about to make a request he could not honor.
“I’ll need the freedom of two others..”
“Go on.”
“ Firewohld, Argus Firewohld.
“The thief?”
“The finest thief and javelier you will ever know. He can throw a wooden pike the length of two ships. A necessity in this work.”
“It can be arranged. And the other…?”
“Magnes Adaine.”
“Magnes has passed on from this mortal coil.” Eristan prompted. He saw the large man consider this.
“How did he die?”
“As all witches do under the queens rule.” Rawyri flexed and unflexed his great muscles, keeping his expression as serene as lake water.
“Then tell the queen her niece is dead.” Rawyri said, and dropped his great head back down to his chest so the other man could not see his anguish. Magnes was a true friend and it had been his charge to watch after the sun witch.
He didn’t see the panic flash over Eristan’s features. This man was his last resort. The Queen would have his head if he failed this one simple task.
“His daughter lives." He croaked out, regretting his words even as he spoke them. Rawyri’s head came back up, his eyes alight with a new fire.
"Is she like her father?" His voice held a strange thing...hope.
“She is, and she is at the discretion of the Queen’s favor.”
"So she is a prisoner."
"And the only Sun Witch alive who can locate and kill D’mitir." Rawyri said evenly. Eristan knew the large man spoke the truth. He knew the Queen's feelings on the matter and he felt pressed to make a decision for the crown and not the queen.
"If I give leave to release Tara Ivet Adaine, she will never again be able to set foot on Colony ruled soil.. She will be considered forever expatriated."
“Then I will speak to her and allow her to decide her own path.” Rawyri said to the smaller man.
“Then you agree to be of service to the Queen and the whole of the United Colonies.” Eristan breathed an inward sigh of relief. Rawyri met his eyes. His so dark that the pupils were lost in the blackness. They were eyes that took everything and gave nothing back.
“As a free man and a Tersaen I will aid the Queen with the help of the girl, but in no way and at no time will I be ruled by the Queen’s hand.”
“Then I shall ask the warden for your release…”
Rawyri stood at his full height, his broad chest flexing, his arms snapping the chains taut. They fell away from the wall and clattered to the floor.
“You’ve been free of your chains this whole time?” Eristan watched as Rawyri stepped across the red line. Up close, Eristan had to cane his head to look upward at the man.
“A Tersaen in chains allows an oppressor to act without fear. Fear is what masks one’s true nature…or brings it closer to the surface.” He motioned to the dungeon’s exit. “Lead the way, Eristan of the United Colonies.”
_________________ The best things come to those who procrastinate.
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