Belen
Legend
Shadows over Merrovin
The evening had settled over the village of Duskhaven and the summer heat had left the streets empty. Few people patronized the Nightingale House that night. A few regulars shared a meal and chatted quietly with the owner, Emily Alexander, and her staff. The weather was a very popular topic of conversation as the heat and sparse rain left most uneasy. A farming village lived on the good graces of the weather. Otherwise, the only inhabitants for the evening were the newer additions to village: Alexi, a large gremen sitting near a window, Lily, a roviri waitress, and the Quills, Penabel and Genevieve.
It was rare to have so many new faces in Duskhaven. Other than the occasional patrol from Whitehaven or the King’s Levy traveling to and from the great citadel in the Sundered Pass, any resident of the village could count the number of travelers in a single year on one hand. Of the recent additions to Duskhaven, Lily Openshaw, had been the first to arrive. People had been quite shocked when Emily Alexander hired the roviri woman, although her subtle charm quickly won over the patrons of the Nightingale. Alexi arrived soon after. He quietly paid for a room at the Nightingale and spent time wandering around the village and the surrounding area. The Quills, Penabel and Genevieve, crashed into the village a week after Alexi, and they quickly inhabited the home of their deceased grandmother. Penabel spent the time chasing every available girl in town and some of the town council debated a law preventing Penabel from leaving his home after dusk.
Despite the fresh faces, the village soon returned to the normal quiet, secluded place it had been for centuries…
Verist staggered down the street, his screams muffled after too many hours of useless, unanswered cries. The pain of his ruined throat, blistered feet, and heavy load threatened to damp his conscious mind. His thoughts drifted constantly, memories of his wife lying bloody in the field, the day they were married, his happiness when learning they would have a child. “Oh holy mother,” he pleaded silently, “please let me find Father Quentin. I will gladly surrender my life for her.”
Alexi nursed his warm meem (beer) while lost in thought. After several weeks, he had yet to find the reason why his spirit guide led him to this remote village. Only his faith kept him here and the sense of a calling that indicated great need. As usual, such thoughts moved caused him to touch the bear totem that always graced his neck. As the stone slide into his palm, he caught a glimpse of a man staggering towards the inn. The light of the moons enveloped the man in a scene of stark horror.
Alexi’s eyes widened as he absorbed the image of a man covered in blood screaming silently with blood, dirt, and tears forming a macabre mask of tremendous pain. Alexi bolted from the table only to see the same look of horror written in his heart on the face of the roviri waitress, Lily. They both rushed out the door reaching the staggering figure at the same moment.
Lily stared into the eyes of the man and read his muffled pleas. “Help me,” he said in a shadowed cry. She slipped her arms around him as Alexi pulled the ruined body of the woman away from him. Quickly, they rushed into the Church of Brand that sat across the street.
Alexi yelled for Father Quentin as he rushed into the church. Quentin burst from a doorway towards the back of the building to discover what had transpired. It took him a moment to assess the situation before ordering Alexi to bring her to the hospice set up in the rear of the church. After he left the woman with the Father, he returned to find the man unconscious at Lily’s feet.
Lily turned to Alexi and said “Stay with him. I will go back to the inn and get some brandy and cloth to clean some of the blood away.” She left before he had a chance to respond.
Penabel Quill had just finished his drink. It had been a good drink, but he realized that he was not yet drunk enough to forget about the heat. He watched at as Lily rushed into the inn. Aha, he thought, now I can get my drink. The Roviri woman may be attractive, but she really must learn how to service the clientele better. “Excuse me, wench,” he said in his most commanding voice, “I need another drink.” He was quite shocked when she handed him a bottle of brandy and told him to go bring it to the man covered in blood across the street. He was about to argue that wasn’t she the waitress when his sister grabbed the bottle from his hand and started out of her chair. “Hey Gen! Where are you going? We haven’t finished our card game!” His twin sister, thoroughly used to his disregard for everything but his own convenience didn’t pause as she grabbed him by the shoulder and tugged him out of his chair. “That waitress said someone is hurt. I am going to take this brandy to him and see if we can help.” “We huh?” replied her brother, but he followed her out of the inn anyway.
Penabel walked across the street to the temple of Brand. He was quite annoyed at being talked to in such a cheeky manner. He would have to make sure to bring it up with the owner. She may even give him a free drink to assuage his damaged pride. When he stepped inside the temple, well, really little more than a country church, he immediately noticed the large Gremen kneeling before a man bathed in blood. The shock of seeing such a gruesome sight was a blow, and he stood quietly as Gen handed the brandy to Alexi.
Alexi grabbed the brandy and had just managed to awaken the poor soul when Lily arrived with the wet towels. The terror on his face was heartbreaking. Alexi allowed Lily to question the man. He had a feeling that she would have a calming effect. He watched silently as she asked him what had happened. The man had heard a scream from a nearby field. When he arrived, he found her savaged and bleeding profusely and his only thought had been to get her to Father Quinton.
Lily felt drained as the man passed out again, despite the brandy. She had not seen such death in over a year. Almost, she was overcome with the memory…. She looked up to find Father Quinton standing over them; a look of anguish creased his weathered face. “We should get him to a bed in the back. Poor Verist, he will need his strength.”
Lily stared at the old priest. “Good father, what has happened to the woman he carried here?”
“I could not save her.” he whispered. “She had lost too much blood, and the wounds were great.” Poor girl, he thought, I still remember the day you were born.