Raska Tales: One Small Gift

The swell of happiness she felt with his acceptance put a skip in her heartbeat and a fire in her chest. Her cleaning magics went wild as she let slip her control over her abilities to remove the mess still clinging to their clothes. Small bolts of lightning arced between the pair of blue earrings pierced into her right ear as more sparked off from her fingertips and rippled down a trail of metal buttons along her sleeves. Soon, all evidence of their battles had vanished by either magics or pouring rain that now moved to chill their skin.

"How long has it been?" He asked, his voice a low whisper that she barely heard under the battering of rain against stone.

A moment of pause, her elation falling before she answered, "Seven years."

She could feel his Adam's apple bob, his head turning to face the cenotaph. Pre-empting the question that was undoubtedly coming next, she said, "That's the memorial to everyone lost that day. All two hundred and eighty-four. Your name is at the top."

His body tensed up. She could almost feel the anger rising within him as his lips pursed and eyes narrowed under an arching brow. His fingertips curled inward and threatened to dig into the back of her cloak and the coat beneath, but then he let out a breath and rested his head on top of hers. His muscles relaxing as the rain pattered around them and his breath turned to a crimson fog from his mouth.

A sudden rough cough erupted from his lungs. For the moments afterward, she thought nothing of it until his knees began to buckle. Eyes widening and fingers going numb with her sudden panic, she took hold of anything she could as his body slumped against hers. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind alongside a dozen spells before she stuttered out a quick incantation. The air shifted as beads of rain fell around an unseen presence that took up the burden of his weight and moved with her to lower the warrior to the ground.

More crimson trailed from his lips off his breath as he moved his trembling hands to cover his gut, but she was quick to pull them aside to see what remained of his earlier wound.

Where the monster had sliced open his stomach remained a significant bruise around veil-thin skin almost transparent enough for her to make out what lay beneath. Despite the hastened healing from his potion, his injury still threatened to spill out his insides. That ink-like purple shade spreading across his midsection as fresh beads of blood began to trail out from small openings in his skin. Whatever magic it was that still held him together was starting to weaken.

"What kind of potion did you take?" she asked as she reached into her bag.

"An improvised one... made on the road..." he groaned, his voice losing its tone. "Spent all my healing draughts... in the fight. That gem... was supposed to kill us both."

With a shake of her head, she spoke swiftly, digging deeper into her pack. "That wasn't the purpose that your gem held. The magic on it was never meant to kill, now hold still."

She drew out a flask, the stopper pulling off with a sucking pop. Swirling around the red elixir inside and bringing it to his lips, she warned, "Drink this. It will hurt."

A deep frown creased his brow but he still opened his mouth to allow the concoction to be poured down his throat. He closed his eyes and swallowed the bland liquid and grit his teeth for what came next.

A sound akin to stretching leather creaked from his belly as muscle and tendons rejoined and solidified into one piece. Skin pulled over itself like chilled molasses before thickening to close the remnants of its damage and knit back together. With scorching pain raking his core, the Elf grit his teeth and took a crushing grip on his belt in his effort to take his suffering without even a whimper.

Cracks of bone coming back together echoed from within his ribcage, and several more clicked from within his skull. The skin of his stomach rapidly flushed from a deep, bruised purple before fading into yellow, and finally back to its natural shade around a broad, pale line. Even the scar on his cheek lost some of its definition, though not enough to completely slip beneath a scrutinous glance. With a final cough to rid the remaining fluids from his lungs, he breathed out with a sigh of relief as the last of his wounds settled into a pale scar across his midsection.

"It's done," Visseny whispered as natural lightning flashed above with its thunder just moments behind. "We need to get you inside."

...

A fire sprang to life in the hearth of an abandoned inn while a steady rain battered the cedar shake roof. This was one of the few buildings that managed to mostly escape the destruction, and so its windows survived to keep out the elements while trapping the growing warmth within. The only lament of its newest tenants was that guest rooms on the second floor did not get through the battle unscathed as the rear wall of the building shorn off to expose them to the outside. Only their doors remained intact to keep the weather out of the main room.

Seated on a soft quilt laid out before the fireplace, Rolyen tended the growing flames with an increasing solemnity marring his Elven features. He hunched over with his elbows on his knees, adding another log and whispering a word of power to force it alight. Downtrodden eyes holding a blank stare at the ripple of new flames that was only rarely interrupted by an extended blink.

With a crackle of a natural burn bringing the fresh wave of warmth, wisps of steam began to rise from his black hair while his thawing ears slowly drooped under the weight of their golden piercings. An itch grew in his thigh from the pair of cloth pants he acquired from an abandoned wardrobe in the back, the material course compared to his proper attire that hung up over the hearth.

Scratching away the discomfort of poorly aged trousers, he pulled the blanket over his back in tighter. Rolling his shoulders to allow it to better cover the mass of scars, burns, and tattoos that marked his upper body. A steady exhale escaping him hinting at satisfaction, he settled his movements and returned to brooding over the fire.

From time to time, a muscle would twitch or spasm in his back, or an old injury would cramp up, but aside from these rogue shifts in his flesh, he kept deathly still. The dark emerald of his eyes staring a thousand leagues past that flickering light before him.

Even as Visseny dropped a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor beside him, the most he did was move his eyes to leer in her direction. The half-elf woman had dressed down to her tunic and black leather pants, her dark hair tied back into a simple ponytail. Were it not for the glowing mark on her right hand or the colorful streaks in her hair, one wouldn't be able to distinguish her from a commoner as she took to organizing the blankets into the general shape of a bed.

"How did you free me?"

She froze at the sound of his voice. Not a word had been spoken since they came to the inn and she hadn't seen His gaze shift from the fire since he stripped down. Flexing her branded hand and glancing off to the side, she pondered over the possible answers to give him. A detailed explanation? A lengthy tale of embellishment and drama? No, he was a man of action. Not a student coming to her for a lecture.

"By finding the source of that gem of yours and seeking the magics needed to reverse its effect. After that was material and channeling components."

She could almost hear his scowl form the creases in his brow. "That gem pre-dated the founding of Royer. It was from a world before the time of ours-"

"I know," she interrupted, her voice calm and soothing as she fluffed a pillow and utilized her magics to purge the dust and potential bugs from the cloths. "I know what it was, how old it was, and how you came upon it. Seven years may not be a long time in your eyes, but it was enough for me to do plenty of research. To have my own adventure to rival one of Rolyen Dashblade's."

Amusement accompanied by a proud grin took over his ageless face as he watched her finalize her own sleeping arrangements while effortlessly manipulating her environment with her magics. This had not gone unseen by the half-blood, as she paused to smile in return. Eyes falling away, his expression quickly rescinded into neutrality, and he turned back to the fire.

"Are you the same girl I chased through the sewers those many years ago? The frightened smattering of skin and bone pulled off of these very streets to learn the proper harnessing of magics?"

She chuckled as her gaze fell back to her branded hand as the mark rippled with blue light. "No. I am... I've become much more now..." Arcs of lighting danced across the back of her fingers as she clenched her fist. "Now they call me the Sorceress of Storms."

"Sorceress of Storms?" he repeated, his tone even but inquisitorial. "I feel as though that is a title that bears great weight, though to me its meaning is lost."

It was her turn to show her amusement. "You would not be wrong about my recent title, and I could not blame you for not respecting it. The last seven years have been... eventful, to put it simply..." she let her words trail off as she mentally recalled all the trials she'd undergone. The battles fought and the numerous lives lost. "Any story I could recount for you is likely far more tame than what you could find in some taverns throughout the Empire. Wordsmiths put heavy embellishments upon them and add a great deal of flair for the bards to pass on with tongues more talented than mine."

With these memories coursing her mind, she didn't notice his eyes peering deeper into the hearth. His gaze growing ever more distant with each passing thought. Only when a log crackled and spat a flurry of embers and sparks did his trance break, and he posed a new question.

"Why did you save me?"

"Because you saved my life," she had the answer out with neither thought or hesitation.

A stern glower crept over his features as he held a hand over fist against his chest. "Visseny, I dragged you out of the sewers and sent you to a school. Any man could have done that for you. My soul hardly constitutes spending seven years of your life, enduring gods know what, to save from a lost realm."

His eyes wandered back toward her when the half-elf stood and wordlessly approached him. The frown so deeply seated over his eyes remained stubborn in place even as she knelt beside him with pursed lips and slowly exhaling a tense breath. Drawing a journal from her belt and flipping to a blank page, she gave a short incantation and let a white light emanate from her fingertips. Her thoughts turned to images on the parchment that had his harsh look lifting into a new realization as she verbalized what he saw.

"A girl, starving to death on the side of the street, belly burning with a hunger powerful enough to consume the final sparks of her life. So desperate was she that she risked the wrath of guardsmen and upper-class children to beg before a shop that sold sweets. Beg she did and beaten she was. Several times over, for several days on end. None would offer her a mere copper even as they dropped silver on foods that did little more than rot their teeth."

Rolyen blinked as he saw a coin drop into the bowl before the girl. From a man wearing boots banded by red iron and composed of grey-striped, black leather. More specifically, his boots.

"None except one," she continued as the image changed once again. "One coin he gave, worth more than anything she'd held before in her life. It put food in her belly, clothes on her back, and hope in her heart. It saved her from the very brink of death, and she never gave her thanks. Never saw his face."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she looked up at his face and closed the journal in her hand. "That coin saved my life, and I didn't know it was you until the day we parted ways at Kennemill keep. When I bowed to you and finally saw those boots."

She raised a tentative hand toward him, placing it upon his bare chest as the brand upon the back of it flashed with a dim yellow light. "By then it was too late. I was ushered away, and you were gone."

He blinked, holding her gaze for a mere moment before looking down at her hand sitting between his pectorals. A brief huff of breath hinting amusement escaped him, followed by a low chuckle that had her blinking in confusion as he looked back to the fire. "A gold coin. One small gift. Not the beasts I've slain nor the men and damsels I've pulled from danger... Few beings dared to raise their arms in the face of the threats I saw or stand at my side as I fought them. Yet a girl with a coin sundered mysteries of our world to do what many claimed could not be done."

Corners of her mouth curled upward as he lifted a hand to grasp hers. The callouses rubbing like tree bark on the soft back of her knuckles as he confessed, "To be so honest, I can't even recall giving you that coin. Three hundred years I have walked this world, a hundred cities I've visited, ten thousand faces I've met. One day in a market after weeks of travel is not something I can recall with ease..."

He sucked in a breath, then let it go. "It could've been an impulse, it could've been wine and pulling the first thing I had from my pocket..." His gaze fell to the floor as he chuckled with a simper. "Only chance, or perhaps the will of a god to be praised, made it so that coin came to you."

Silence hummed over the crackling of the hearth. The honesty of his words working through her mind and threatening to draw a tear to her eye.

"It was nothing to you," she whispered, eyes focused on his hand grasping hers as she felt her heart rate climb. "But it still was everything to me. So many years I thought of how to repay-"

His hand came up to press a finger to her lips. "You never had to repay me."

He let his words hang in the air as she readied an argument, but he quickly continued, "I've never asked for what I could not accept. Never gave what I was not willing to lose. Before now, all I may've asked of you would be to find your lot and happiness in this world, but with what you've done today... it is I who owe a debt."

The finger at her mouth lowered, and he turned back to the burning log in the hearth. Only to feel her fingers take hold of his jaw to bring his face back toward her. "You cut that talk." She ordered, catching him off guard. "When the whole world left me to die, you reached out. Knowingly or not, you turned a vagrant half-blood into one of the most powerful sorceresses in the western Empire. There is no debt here. As you said; nothing given that wasn't readied to be lost."

His brow arched as he took in her words, but any response was cut short as her hand slipped from his jaw to the side of his face. Brushing against his long, pointed ear and running her fingers into the back of his mop of black hair. "Even if you say I didn't have to, nothing says I didn't want to. To give every effort to have you in my life."

She pulled his face forward to meet hers as she breathed in his worldly scent. Her eyes falling shut as he blinked in surprise. When their lips met, he found his body going stiff, off-put by the forwardness of the girl who turned to a woman before his very eyes. The moment of inaction had her opening half-lidded eyes to wordlessly question if he approved. If her boldness had been a mistake.

He would give her an answer.

Shirking off the blanket from his shoulders, he broke their kiss while shifting onto his knees. She moved to stand but he placed his hands upon her shoulders to keep her still. With the two of them kneeling before each other, the bladesman holding the focus of the powerful sorceress, he shifted his hands to the sides of her face as he gazed into her honey-amber eyes. Pausing a moment to gauge her reaction in turn.

The gentle touch of her fingers coasting up his bare chest caught his attention first; second, the growing tint upon her almond cheeks. The warmth from her exploratory hands came to his shoulders to take hold of him. To draw him in again.

Following her body's sign, he leaned in just as she did for a proper meeting of their lips, with passion and probing movements. Firm holds to tease aggressive play, soft smooching to gauge her response to a romantic turn, slips of tongue to test her willingness to explore. Small details, subtle reactions, all speaking volumes to him of a girl experienced but unskilled in the art of this intricate dance. A young girl she was not, but young she still was.

When her tongue finally poked forth to touch his own, the initiative becoming hers, he wasn't surprised to feel her touch on his inner thigh. Her fingers tracing up to his groin as she suckled on his lower lip. A forwardness he should've expected from her after she had accomplished so much.

Grabbing onto the back of her thighs, he hoisted her up to invoke a coo of surprise as he pulled her close and rose to his feet. Without breaking eye contact, he carried her over to a nearby table and sat her down on the hardwood top. A devious leer formed as he leaned in toward her with their faces now at equal height. Delight danced in her eyes as he closed in with her again and her legs splayed open in anticipation.

"Does this great sorceress know what manner of being she welcomes?" He whispered.

"The one I've waited on for much of my life," she answered.

"He is a beast most voracious," he warned while coming in to kiss her and undoing the belt of her pants. The buckle released and the buttons beneath it soon followed. Small tugs during the merging of their mouths and the garment slipped underneath her and dropped down to her ankles. In the next moment, with just a brief break between their kisses, he had her tunic off in one swift pull.

What hid beneath that garment had him pausing a moment to awe as the only cloth left on her lithe body were the two pieces of her smallclothes made of blue lace. The accented material doing little to hide the shapely form of its wearer. Visible definition showed off the credible physique of her body; toned arms, smooth skin, the six ridges of her core muscles rippling her middle under just a slim layer of belly padding.

Her breasts were beautiful swells upon her chest larger than ripe honeydew and capped by chocolate areola with a lone freckle over her heart. Gliding his hands up her sides up to her chest, he palmed over the stiff nipples beneath her bra and let his left-hand drift toward the mark marring her right shoulder. There he traced his fingers over a rippling scar left by a powerful shock of lightning magic.

Veins below the skin had their lines burned into the flesh above them. A crater branching out with darting lines centered at the joint and ran from just above her ribs to over her collar bone and back toward her shoulder blade. It was a mark that spoke of how this creature of studies and magic was not shy to danger or the perils of the real world.

The clear definition speaking of its recent bestowal unlike the faint line left from the wound she sustained in the tunnels as a child.

"Is the sight of a woman's scar so distracting?" she asked, a red glow to her cheeks as she turned away.

Attention shifting from the jagged patterns on her skin, he looked to her eyes and gave her another kiss. This time taking hold of her body to help lie her gently down onto the table top. With the sorceress on her back, he stood up straight to put his own body on full display.

Claw marks raked his ribs, several old stab wounds surrounded the new gouge that ran across his gut. Burns and slashes crisscrossed his chest along with several more marks left from blades or arrows piercing directly into him. One set of scars in particular, all on the left side of his torso, had the discolored lines tattooed over. From a burn and ragged tear came the inked image of a sun between the twin peaks of two mountains. The remains of a blast of lightning magic on his ribs had become a wolf with ragged fur and a lost eye.