#i. wildfire ›› one look at your face brings down the human race. ( visage ) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

friendlyunclej · 6 years

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The Tongues That Speak of Serpents

Prologue

“Did you hear about what happened?” I overheard a human woman say.

“About what?” her decrepit father said, wiping a mug clean.

“They say that the Serpents are among us,” she said with a gleeful smile.

Placing the first mug gently back on the bar and picking up the next one to clean, he responded, “Of course, the serpents are among us, child. We live in the desert. They’re all around us.”

Rolling her eyes, she continued, “No, father dearest. THE Serpents. The Serpents of Serhya is said to be here in Quintiff.”

Scoffing at the thought, the old man told her, “What would such an infamous group of villains be doing at the worst port on this side of Baicia?”

“They’re not villains,” the girl responded defiantly, “They saved a whole group of children.”

“Oh, did they?” her father said, matter-of-factly, “From what I heard, they sold those children to a dragon to harbor its favor after they massacred their entire village, camels included.”

“They would never-” the girl began before being cut off by her father again.

“They wouldn’t? Like how they wouldn’t set a village ablaze in the marshes? What do you think that plume of smoke was a month or two ago?”

“That was just a wildfire, that couldn’t have been them.”

“It certainly was. They’re killers and scoundrels, my dear, worth nothing more than a knife to the eye in their sleep!” the old man shouted, slamming a clean mug on to the shelf.

Just as he finished, I watched the door to the tavern fly open, revealing three humans in varying displays of cloaks. As they entered, they shook the sand off of them as a sandstorm hid their faces.

The first to enter was the second tallest in the group and spoke with a strange voice as he seemed to be annoying the tallest cloaked figure with his expanse of words. He said, “Now, I know what you are thinking. ‘What do you mean by there’s something after this life for you?’ And I have the answer, my dear sister. ‘Tomes’!”

Pulling off her hood, she slapped the sand off of her legs as she laughed, responding in a somewhat low, strong voice, “Books? Of all the things you wish to have next, you wish to have ‘books’, brother?”

As the two continued to speak, the third didn’t take off his hood as he walked past them and sat down at an empty booth in the corner of the tavern. The other two slowly followed, laughing and trading jests with each other. As they walked, I studied their features closely, to see if any of them were the man I was looking for.

My friend readjusted her seat to have her back towards the group, allowing me to scan them with less suspicion as it seemed as though I was simply staring at her.

Seeing my eyes dart about the three, she asked, “What do you see?”

“All three are humans, at least, I’m pretty sure about that. The woman is rather fetching for her stature, and race. Soft features, fair skin, almost unnaturally fair for the desert. Dark red hair with green eyes...or blue...or, oh, wow, they seem to change like waves of the sea,” I said, a smile growing on my face.

Clearing her throat with an annoyed stare at me, my friend told me, “Keep your mind on the task at hand. We’re looking for a dark-skinned Half-Elf with plenty of riches and glasses made of black glass. What’s the man look like?”

“Right, sorry,” I readjust my eyes to the man the woman was joking with, “He’s certainly dark of skin but he’s a human through and through. His hair is almost like a wreath of braids, tied back against his scalp. Stronger features and his clothing choice is much more agreeable to the sands. Almost countless daggers and darts on his belt. His voice is the strangest thing about him, though. I can’t place where he’s from.”

“Well, those two are out of the question, then. But what about the third?”

“I can’t see his face. All I can see is the hood he has, the swords on his hips, and...that he is of browner skin,” I pointed out, still having some hope that I’ve found him.

“Well, let’s wait, then,” my friend assured me, “If he’s here to drink and eat, he’ll have to remove the hood to make it easier.”

As we finished our discussion, I saw the girl happily skip over to the group’s seats as she told her father, “I think we should get some more opinions.”

Once at the table, she was greeted by each of them, even causing the third to throw back his hood but her body blocked his visage from my eyes.

The man with a strange accent said, “Ah, dearest Pawd, how is Quintiff’s favorite bartender?”

“I am no bartender, that is my father, but thank you all the same, Mr. Heeson,” she said, bringing them each a mug.

Shouting from her seat towards the bar, the woman called, “Then how is Quintiff’s favorite piss pourer?!”

“I’m still kicking and the piss is still being drunk, so I can’t complain, Sera,” the old man shouted back, laughing at the end alongside her.

“So what do you need another opinion on, Pawd,” the second man spoke, his face still covered by the daughter’s body.

His voice had an air of confidence behind what seemed to be a very serious demeanor. I placed my hand on my sword as my friend said, “That’s the voice we heard back in the city. The same one with-”

“I know,” I told her, gritting my teeth, “But I want to see his face.”

“Well,” Pawd began, her father joining her with two seats, “We need more opinions on the Serpents of Serhya.”

“Who?” the cocky voiced one said, playing the fool.

“They’re a mercenary group,” the bartender began, sounding as crass as possible, “Paid killers who take any job, regardless of who they’re killing. I see them nothing more than criminals and cutthroats, deserving a knife to the throat in their slumber.”

“But I think they’re heroes,” Pawd spoke up, “Because they’ve saved just as many by doing such things.”

“Damn, that fucking old man is blocking my vision now,” I said as I stood up and walked towards the bar.

Standing at the end of the bar, I patted the top as I shouted, “Bartender, another please.”

“Oh, of course,” the old man said, standing up from his seat, “Pawd, tell me what they say. I’m sure they’ll agree with you as they always do, but still.”

As the old man walked over to me, I stared intently at the man his body was blocking. It was him, the dark-skinned Half-Elf with eyes covered by black glass. The cocky little piece of shit who has curried favor with seemingly everyone in the sands of Serhya. The pimp who took my wife from me.

“Uhhh...husband dear,” my friend called to me with her hand on mine, “The bartender asked you what drink you would like.”

Snapping out of my furious stare, I took my grasp from my sword and placed my hand on top hers, playing the part of the married couple, as I said, “Oh, my apologies, friend. Ale is fine.”

Seeing my gaze locked to the Half-Elf with black glass on his eyes, the bartender asked, “So, remind me what you two came to the sands for? Pardon my curiosity if I overstep my bounds here, my daughter and I simply don’t see many Dwarfs these days, least of all here on the cliff side.”

“We’ve been looking for an old friend we grew up with,” my “wife” spoke, “It feels like a lifetime since we’ve seen her and we miss her dearly.”

“Oh,” the old man said, his eyes falling on my friend then back to my frozen gaze on the Half-Elf, “If that’s so, the man your husband is staring at could probably help you find her. Pho there knows practically everybody on the continent if they’ve been here for at least a year.”

Keeping my eyes locked to the Half-Elf, I asked, “Hmph, that’s his name, aye? ‘Pho’?”

“Aye,” the human said, pouring drinks for other patrons, “I, and many others, call him ‘The Son of the Sands’. Good man with his head screwed on straight, unlike others in his profession.”

“Good to know,” I told him, hastily grabbing my drink and making my way over to their booth.

Unceremoniously taking a seat in the stool the bartender pulled up, I stared angrily at the one they called “Pho” as their conversation came to an end.

“Can we help you with something?” the man with a strange accent asked.

“You can’t, but the one with the black glass in front of his eyes surely can,” I remarked, not pulling my stare from him.

“Well, I am a pimp, after all,” the man said, taking a drink from his mug, “But, we’re quite a ways away from my brothel. If you and your wife behind you find yourselves in Zealor in about a month or two, I’ll be more than happy to find some workers who you’d enjoy.”

“Uhhh, I should leave. My father doesn’t want me hearing these stories,” Pawd said, sliding out of her chair and offering it to my friend.

As she was leaving, Pho flipped her a platinum coin and said, “Pawd, don’t care too much about stories surrounding mercenaries like the Serpents of Serhya. In my experience, if you follow those stories for too long, they turn out to disappoint you more than you expect.”

Pawd nodded towards him as she caught the coin, “Uhhh...do you want anything in return for such a...uhhh...”

Never having seen a platinum coin before, she was at a loss for words. I was even disturbed by the amount he gave her when mugs of ale cost only two silver coins here.

The man with strange accent spoke up again to say, “Music, please. Sera has told us that your voice makes the gods clap in awe. I would love to hear it.”

“Of course, I’ll sing for days with this much coin,” she said, rushing back to her father.

“An extremely generous tip from someone like you,” I said, locking a fierce gaze back to him.

“What do you mean by someone like him?” the towering woman responded, slamming her empty mug on the table.

Quick to assure her that I meant nothing by it, my friend said, “Where we come from, the wealthier aren’t as generous with their funds. My husband and I are not used to seeing such kindness from someone so well-regarded.”

“Hmph, she’s right,” the tower of a woman remarked, “You’re a softy for this place, baby brother. You turn into a marshmallow every time we come here.”

Scoffing at the remark, the strange voiced man added in, “Marshmallow? Softer than that, now. He’s like a pile of mud from the Melting Marshes now that he has a-”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again,” this “Pho” remarked, growing playfully frustrated, “She’s my apprentice. She’ll take over the brothel so I can retire. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah, just an apprentice with a nice set of-” the large woman began before being cut off.

“Sera, if you finish that sentence, so help me, Dwuyddin!” the man shouted, growing more annoyed.

The woman backed off, taking a long drink from her mug, as the man with an accent finished her statement for her by saying, “Earrings.”

All three of them burst into laughter, the woman almost spitting her drink back into her mug. I gripped my sword’s hilt tighter, knowing the woman they were referring to. I felt my wrist being guided off of it as my “wife” began to laugh as well, pulling me in to chuckle alongside them.

Just as we were laughing, I heard the daughter begin to sing as she played a dulcimer. As her voice filled the room, everyone’s discussions quieted as their attention moved to the source of the heavenly sounds echoing throughout the building.

“So,” the man began, “What do you think I can help you with?”

“There’s a friend of ours we’ve been searching all over for, hoping to reunite after so many years of being separated,” my friend began, placing our hands on top of the table.

“Is that so?” he said, suspiciously eyeing her, “Who would this friend be?”

“Her name is Jilri Hillleaf, a Halfling,” I told him, my glare softening to just a passing glance, “She’s been here for a number of years, now. The old man told us that you know practically everyone in the sands if they’ve stayed here past a year.”

“He’s right. I practically do,” he said, taking a drink from his mug, “However, I’m sorry to say that I’ve never met a Halfling woman with that name.”

“Oh, well, that’s too b-” my friend tried to say.

I interrupted by saying, “In that case, have you met any Halfling women at all? She was running from someone back home. She could’ve changed her appearance.”

“Well, there’s your cute little-” the woman stopped, hearing “Pho” clear his throat. After a quick sigh, she finished her statement with a tired, “Apprentice. Your cute little apprentice. Is that better, baby brother?”

“Her name is Zita,” I heard him say, locking eyes with his sister for a moment.

“Zita?” my “wife” said, looping her arm around mine, “No, that’s not her. I supposed we’ll just keep searching then, sorry to bother you three.”

“It’s no problem at all,” the oddly accented one remarked, “But, before you go, I am curious about something.”

We paused as we tried to stand out of our chairs, we sat back down as he asked, “What do you two think about the Serpents of Serhya?”

“That’s a long answer to give you, my friend. I’m afraid we would simply bore you,” I responded, wanting to leave before this got too out of hand.

“Nonsense,” he announced, raising his mug, “There’s no such thing as too long an answer to tell. Please, sit. We’ll drink, eat, make new friends. It’ll be fun.”

We both sat back down slowly as all three looked at us intently, waiting for our answer.

“Oh, how rude of me. I forgot to introduce us,” the man continued, “My name is Tarja Heeson. This stone wall of a woman is Seraphina Azlyn and the pimp everyone knows is Pho Dhizzle.”

Tarja did a gaudy half bow, still being seated. Seraphina simply placed her mug down from her lips as she raised her eyebrows at us. Pho waved with a cocky smile. A smile I wanted to smack off.

“My name is Visna,” my faux wife said, “and this is my husband, Tormir.”

A Suspicious Trio

”So, what are your thoughts on the Serpents of Serhya?” Tarja insisted.

“They’re killers, aren’t they?” Visna remarked, “Killing for a living usually doesn’t sprout the best of people.”

“True, they are,” Seraphina said, “But, just because they kill for a living shouldn’t make them lesser than anyone else. It’s a job, isn’t it?”

“Aye, it’s a job,” I spoke, picking my eyes off of Pho for the first time, “But so is working in a restaurant or farming. There’s no need to take another person’s life to make coin.”

“What if they do it for more than coin?” Pho spoke up, drawing my attention back to him.

“Well, what else would they do it for?” I asked, tilting my head in curiosity.

“Perhaps some ulterior motives, my friend,” Tarja spoke up, “Perhaps, they had other things to kill for? Like a group of captured children who would’ve been forced into who-knows-what.”

“Do you actually believe that a group of mercenaries have a soft spot for would-be slaves?” Visna asked, looking into his eyes.

“I believe that everyone has a heart and mind that tells them right from , wrong,” Seraphina spoke up, joining the discussion, “I believe that after a certain point of killing, any mercenary would wish for some form of redemption.”

“I think we might have heard different rumors, friends,” I said to them, sitting forward in my seat.

“What rumors did you hear then, Tormir?” Pho asked, raising his mug to signal the bartender for refills.

“I heard tell that they’ve burned down entire villages on the eastern coast of Serhya. Helped kill all kinds of people across the marshes,” I told them, staring harder at Pho.

“Plenty have said that they’ve even helped kill the Man in the Ivory Tower,” Visna stated, reaffirming my side, “He was the one who ran things in Zealor, right? Plenty of people said that he was a kind old man who wanted nothing but the best for the continent. Can’t be good people if they did that.”

I watched all but Pho sit back into their seats as Tarja replied, “Well, plenty have said that, yes.”

“Plenty of others have said that they might have saved lives, too,” Pho stated, leaning a bit back, “Like Pawd. She said that she heard that they saved children’s lives not too long back. I’ve even met some who say that all the villages they burnt down had no more skeletons in them than the ones already buried.”

“What about the first village they burnt down over in the Verdant Green on Kalldor?” Visna questioned, testing the company we were in, “Rumors say that there were more skeletons burnt to a crisp than there were in the nearby graveyard.”

“That was an accident!” Seraphina shouted, crushing the mug in her hand.

Tarja, wrapping a piece of cloth around her hand where the metal lip of the mug had cut, said, “Excuse my sister. She had family in that village and the person that was executed for it was a childhood friend of hers.”

“Yeah,” she said, standing up, “Excuse me. I have to go get something to clean this up with.”

Not believing their story, Visna and I watched her as she left the table. As she rose to her feet, we spied a peculiar tattoo around the base of her neck. We both eyed each other as we returned to the conversation, remembering the first rumor we ever heard about the Serpents of Serhya.

“We apologize if we’ve insulted any of you,” I said, hoping to keep emotions calm.

“No need, my friend,” Tarja insisted, “Our sister is short-tempered and she’s more sensitive than her stature makes her seem. I’ll try to bring her back to the table.”

We watched him stand up and walk towards Seraphina, who had took up a chair at the bar and began to watch Pawd sing her third song, now with her father playing a lyre alongside her dulcimer. We saw another tattoo on the back of his neck, trying to hide behind his collar.

“You two sure hear a lot for newcomers,” Pho said, now lying with his feet up on the bench and his head cocked to the side in suspicion.

Our attentions turning back to him, Nisva was quick to say, “Aye, my husband and I-”

“You see,” he paused, giving a small chuckle, “You keep calling him your husband, but he hasn’t once referred to you as his wife this whole time.”

“Well, that’s beca-” Visna tried to explain before being cut short again.

“On top of that, your man here. ‘Tear me’, was it?” he said mistakenly.

“ ‘Tormir’ is my name,” I corrected.

“ ‘Tore me’?” he continued, annoyingly.

I breathed deep and placed my hand on the hilt of my sword as he shouted for his brother to throw him an apple. His disrespect had annoyed me to the point of almost dueling him. Before I could begin to stand up, the apple slammed into the table an eyelash’s distance from my right hand, a knife skewering it to the wood. I wasn’t even able to see him draw the knife to begin with.

Picking the blade and apple off of the table, Pho pulled a separate knife and began carving the apple, “ ‘Tore me’, ‘Tear me’, ‘Tormir’, a liar by any other name is still a liar. There’s no ring on her finger and there never has been since there’s no tan mark on it. You’ve got the only ring here and she doesn’t look like she likes sapphires. Do you, Visna?”

Removing her arm from mine, Visna sighed as she replied, “No, I don’t.”

Taking the time to feed himself a slice of apple, Pho said, “You can see why I’m calling you two liars, then, can’t you?”

“Listen, we are-”

“No, let me tell you what you two are. You’re Tormir Trueblood, Bard of Fivin’s Travelling Circus back in Kalldor and first son of Tordrid Trueblood. You’re Visna Ironfist, a bodyguard of Fivin’s Travelling Circus and only child of Rangrim Ironfist. Above all else, you’re two Dwarfs on the opposite end of the world from home in hopes of finding a Halfling woman, who, I’m going to assume, is Tormir’s actual wife. Now, did I get anything wrong?”

“How did you get that information about us?”

“It’s like Akeem told you. If they’ve been here at least a year, then I know them. You two are special cases because you two stalked my brothel for two months a year ago, almost 4 months after you landed at the port on the cliff side here in Quintiff. Now, I need to know why you’ve been stalking my brothel and, for the past few months, me.”

My hand gripping my sword tighter, I readjusted in my chair only to pause in fear as the hand slicing apart the apple reasserted the knife into the table.

“I would stay seated if I were you,” he said, taking a bite out of what was left of the apple. Leaning forward into a whisper, he told us, “My brother, my sister, and I may be the Serpents of Serhya, but I’m the one everyone’s called a ‘snake’ in all those nasty rumors you’ve heard.”

Painfully swallowing a lump in my throat, I returned to my seat as I said, “We’ve come to find my true wife. She was kidnapped from our home and I wish to save her from a life of slavery, if that’s what she has become.”

“Alright, so that makes your friend here...” Pho asked, motioning towards Visna.

“We’ve been friends since childhood. I’ve come to help bring her back. She was my friend also,” Visna said, turning her eyes away from Pho.

“ ‘Was’?” Pho asked, wanting to see her reaction.

Still not matching his gaze, Visna replied, “ ‘Is’...She IS my friend.”

“Hmph,” he scoffed, finishing his apple, “Look, I don’t know where this ‘Jilri the Halfling Runaway Wife’ is, sorry to tell you. You’ve seen the Halfling women at my brothel. Do any of them seem like the Jilri y’all have been looking for?”

“No,” I told him, biting my lip in frustration, “None of them do.”

“But, she did keep something that could help identify her,” Visna said, seeing the disappointment in my face, “A necklace.”

She pulled a drawing she made out of her cloak.

“How long have you had that?” I whispered to Visna.

“I’m the one who crafted it for you,” she whispered back, stunning me.

For the first time, I saw him shift in his seat before answering, “It’s a beautifully designed necklace. Sorry to say that I’ve never seen it before.”

He handed the parchment back to Visna as I asked, “So you’ve really never seen that necklace?”

“What you don’t believe me?” he responded, smiling back at me.

“Of course not,” I said, leaning towards him as I continued in a whisper, “Why would I trust the Silver-Tongued Snake?”

He laughed as he pulled the knife from the table and reaffirmed it in his belt. He sat up as he said to us, “What have you heard about each of the Serpents of Serhya? Specifically, I mean, not as a group.”

We went on to tell him all the stories we had heard. We told him about the rumors we had heard about the Dark Serpent of the Sands and how the only thing that could match his speed was his own shadow. We told him about the Red Serpent of the Marshes and how one furious warcry could set half the world ablaze. We even told him about the Silver-Tongued Serpent of Serhya and how the venom from his lips could either bring someone back from the dead or ensure that they could never be resurrected. He neither chuckled nor scoffed at each rumor we regaled to him. He offered no sign of whether or not any of them were spoken from trustworthy tongues.

After we were done, he asked us, “How did you find out that we were them? Aside from the whole, you know, stalking me for months and seeing the aftermath of what we did a month or so back.”

“The first rumor we’ve ever heard turned out to be true,” Visna told him, “We had heard that the three Serpents have a tattoo on their necks of the creature they represent.”

“We saw all of them but yours, Pho,” I told him, smiling back, “Where is yours?”

“Who knows? Maybe I’m just a liar and I’m not actually a Serpent. Thanks for telling me all the stories people have, though,” he snorted, kicking himself off of the bench and seemingly gliding back to his feet.

“Well, if you’re not, then why are you this far north of Zealor?” I questioned, wanting to test his mettle.

He responded, “The girl’s singing. Seraphina wasn’t lying when she said that the gods clap when they hear it. Oh, and her best song is coming up, take a listen.”

As the girl sat upright on a stool next to the bar, she placed her dulcimer away as her father continued on the lyre. Her voice seemed to have a heavenly air to it as the tones she produced seemed to pierce everyone’s heart. The whole tavern fell silent as all attention was given to her notes and even I found myself enraptured by it.

As her song continued, Tarja and Seraphina walked back over to us with a new mug in hand for the man and a towel for the woman.

As she wiped down the table, Seraphina was completely silent until Tarja cleared his throat. She rolled her eyes as she said, “My apologies for crushing a cup in front of you.”

Visna assured her that it was okay and apologized for bringing up the subject while Tarja said, “So, Pho, have you got all the information you wanted out of these two?”

“Oh, yeah. They’re practically open books,” Pho responded, clapping his hands together, “You guys can go on ahead while I finish up if you want.”

“I’ll wait a bit longer. See how they react,” Seraphina said, standing with her back to the wall and her fingers laced behind her head, thumbs rubbing the greataxe on her back.

“It’s your show, Pho,” Tarja stated, standing with his arms crossed directly behind our chairs.

“What in the hell is going on?” Visna said, looking about the three of them.

“I got one last question for you two,” Pho continued, taking what seemed to be powder or fine dust into his hands.

“Don’t try this. You will not like how it ends for you,” I told him, standing up and half drawing my sword.

“What does gods clapping sound like?” he stated, just as what sounded like thunder crashed above our heads.

As Pho clapped, a plume of dust covered Visna and I. Before we could react, our eyes became heavy. The next thing I felt was being carried to a room and placed on a bed. I awoke hours later in the dead of night with no storm crashing above my head. I ran downstairs with my sword drawn, scanning desperately for the Serpents of Serhya.

Pawd yelped a little when she saw my sword drawn, frightened at the sight of a furious Dwarf. I demanded to know where the three I was speaking with were. She took one step out of the way and motioned towards the three of them at the bar, still drinking and joking with the bartender.

“What the hell did you do to me?” I shouted, holding my sword toward him.

Pushing the tip of the sword to the side with two fingers, Pho said, “I didn’t do anything to you, Tormir. We were talking then you and Visna fell unconscious when the storm hit. Y’all might have had too much to drink.”

“Like hell, we did,” I responded, furiously, “We’re Dwarves. We don’t fall to drinks.”

“Yeah, to drinks made by mountain folk,” Akeem, the bartender, stated, wiping a mug clean, “You and your friend Visna had two bottles of Dragon’s Breath. That much alcohol of that caliber can floor a tribe of Goliaths.”

Desperately looking around again, I asked, “Where’s Visna, then? What have you done to her?”

I watched as Tarja and Pho leaned back in their chairs, away from the bar, while Seraphina stayed leaning with her back against the wood. Visna leaned back to wave to me, saying, “Apparently, what they say is true. We had too many drinks last night.”

Seeing her safe, I begrudgingly sheathed my sword on request of the bartender and took a seat by Visna. We spent the rest of the night whispering to one another, neither of us believing that we slept to liquor but not bringing the subject to light in fear of what would happen. We continued to play their “friends” up until the dawn spilled in through the windows.

“So,” I asked, hopping off of the stool and jaunting over to Pho, “You really don’t know anything about a Halfling woman named ‘Jilri’?”

Helping Tarja pick up and carry a drunk, singing Seraphina, Pho told me, “I told you last night that I don’t know any Halfling by that name. I’ll keep an eye and ear out, but, if she was on the ship that brought the other Halflings here about a number of years ago, I wouldn’t keep my hopes high. The ship was hit by a maelstrom and lost a good chunk of its passengers in the storm.”

Nodding at him, I scanned all three again. Visna did as well and we both looked at each other with the same dumbfounded look as we realized that the snake tattoos we had spied before were gone.

“Sorry to hear, but it’s likely that Jilri is de-” Visna began.

Interrupting her, I stated, “She’s not dead. That snake has her.”

“Look, she died at sea, Tormir,” she stated again, grasping my hand, “We need to-”

She paused as I tore my hand from her grip. Giving a large sigh, she corrected herself by saying, “You need to move on. Dwelling on this will only cause you more pain than you already have.”

“No, we’re close. I know we are,” I reassured her, flipping a gold coin on to the bar as we walked out.

We saw them ride off in a carriage together, Seraphina lying in the back, drunkenly singing loud enough for the gods to hear.

“What makes you so sure, Tormir?” Visna insisted, raising her voice to be heard past the high winds of the morning.

“The necklace,” I told her, a fire burning in me as I said it, “He reacted to the necklace.”

Epilogue

“So,” Tarja began as he bounced next to me on the front of the carriage, “Do you think they actually believe we’re the Serpents of Serhya?”

“Of course, they do. I only put them to sleep, not changed their memory,” I told him, tying the reins to the seat as the camels followed the road.

Still lying in the back of the carriage, Seraphina called out, “We could just go back and kill them. It’s not like they’re good people and neither are we.”

“Last I checked, aren’t we trying to be, Sera?” I asked her, trying to help her realize that we aren’t supposed to act like that anymore.

“Oh, come on,” she chortled, “I was just joking...kind of.”

“Our little brother is right, Sera,” Tarja remarked, leaning back to look at her, “This was our last job together. I would rather keep our hands clean for it and just enjoy the time we have left as a family.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she said, sitting up and scooting closer to us. Placing her back against the end of the carriage, she asked, “So, tell me what you all are doing after this again? Helps me cope with losing another family.”

“First of all, you’re not losing any of us, big sis,” I reassured her, uncorking a waterskin filled with wine.

I passed it to Tarja as he was the first to start, saying, “Well, I actually have one more job to do after this with my dearest, Neilla. After that, we’ll have enough coin to retire to a small town in the southern dunes of the Searing Sands.”

Clasping the waterskin out of Tarja’s mouth during his second gulp, Sera said, “You should really take me with you guys. I would love to see the Nine Hells before I’m sent there for eternity.”

Chuckling a bit, we enjoyed the joke before I turned serious again, saying, “You two should really have backup, T. There’s a reason why Ivellios didn’t even want to accept the job in the first place.”

“I know what my warden wanted,” he said, growing annoyed at the topic, “I still took it anyway against his better judgement because it’s the only way Neilla and I can get enough money to be free of this life, Pho.”

I reached for the waterskin and Sera jerked the wine in and out of my reach, toying with me. After I finally caught it, I told Tarja, “We know why you’re doing this, T. We’re just scared that you won’t be coming back. Five groups have tried and they were never heard from or seen again.”

Tarja, readjusting his position, told us that, “Those groups weren’t Neilla and I. We have stronger than coin driving us. We have-”

“True Love!” Sera and I shouted in unison before teasing Tarja by pretending to throw up.

“Yeah, yeah, mock me all you want, but I’ll tell you this,” Tarja began, pointing at both of us. As he stole the waterskin from my grasp, he finished his thought with, “Little Pho here is not too far behind.”

“Fuck off, T,” I shot, leaning back in my seat.

Hopping into the carriage to sit next to Seraphina, he took a large gulp as she said, “Listen to him protest. It’s so cute seeing the kid in love. Isn’t it, big brother?”

“Yo, one my word, and I will hop back there and whoop both of y’all’s asses,” I shouted, not wanting to talk about the subject.

“Oh, listen to him kick and shout,” Tarja teased, handing the waterskin to our sister, “You know the only thing that can make a man blush with both anger and awkwardness, Seraphina? Only the truest love that love could be.”

“I’m warning y’all. One more word, and I’ma snap,” I told them, gesturing with my whole body to ease the discomfort I was feeling, “Straight up ‘Great War Lore’ type of snap, alright. Absolute Elven Barbarian and the Drow Captors type of snap.”

“You know what’s best, though? How you covered up what I was going to say about his ‘apprentice’,” Sera continued, ignoring me and speaking to Tarja, “And how she has a nice-”

“Sera, I will hop back there.”

“Set-”

“Girl, I already got my dagger out.”

“Of-”

“I will send you to the Nine Hells myself.”

“EYES!” “EARRINGS!” “GODDAMMIT!”

We all shouted at the same time and they laughed their heads off as I dove into the carriage on top of them. We rolled around, punching and laughing in a ball of hysteria. Roughhousing a bit too rough, we wound up rolling out of the carriage and slamming into the sand. We laughed as the camels came to a stop by themselves while we laid in a puff of dust. Breathing heavily and letting the bruises sink in, we all got back up to our feet and sat in the bed of the carriage while the camels started back down the road.

“Do you think that Zita’s actually the girl they’re looking for? Jilri, The Halfling Runaway Wife?” I asked them, our laughter calming into soft giggles.

“Of course, not,” Seraphina reassured me, “You said it yourself. The vessel that brought over the group she was with lost half of its occupants during a maelstrom. Chances are that that’s not her.”

“You guys didn’t see the necklace they showed me,” I stated, breathing deep, “It was the same exact one she has had slung around her neck since the day we met. It was hand drawn, even. Never seen anything like it.”

“Wait, but weren’t they the same two who had been stalking your brothel?” Tarja asked, trying to pull my eyes to something I hadn’t considered, “If they were, they could have drawn it by memory then drag the parchment through some dirt and rocks to make it seem like old parchment. We’ve used that trick countless times before.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said, knowing that what Visna showed me was the genuine article. When I agreed with them, I’m sure I was trying to convince myself that Tarja was right just as much as I convinced them.

“By Nadari’s warhammer, I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself once you two leave,” Seraphina began, her laughter being replaced with a tremble.

“I’d say move to where you can hunt freely. That’s what you’ve always loved to do, isn’t it?” Tarja said, staring out towards the dunes.

“Where do I find that, huh? In the marshes? With all the Tiefling and Dragonborn who’s looking for the ‘Red Serpent of the Marshes’? The serpent that burned down a number of their own villages and countless homes because she couldn’t control her anger? Yeah, fat chance,” she told us, tears starting to well up in her eyes.

“Well, there’s always Kalldor, the other continent,” I suggested, noticing her tears striking the wood of the wagon, “All new area. All new people. All new creatures.”

“Move to the other side of the world? Away from you guys? I’d rather be one of the fucking monks in the Forgotten Islands, shave the rest of my head, only drink, eat, piss, and sleep when I’m not meditating. Sounds real great,” she said, now holding herself in fear.

“C’mon, that actually sounds great for you,” Tarja insisted, holding her in his arms, “A giant mountain to make your own. Fighting everything new, even the weather as I’ve heard that the snow in the Frigid Rime sometimes cuts deeper than a longsword.”

“That does sound nice compared to the sand,” she said, wiping some tears away, “I’ve never seen snow, either.”

“On top of that, there’s bears with white fur and even Yetis,” I told her, placing my hand on her back, “Creatures who are like giant half-men with curved horns and strength that challenges the Goliaths that roam the mountains, too.”

“Those do sound like great trophies,” she said, laughing a bit, “You guys will visit me, right? If I tell you where I am?”

“Of course, we will. How is that even a question?” Tarja reassured her, beginning to sway her back and forth.

“Hell yeah,” I agreed, holding her in a hug as well, “We can’t just leave our sister out there alone. We’ll visit at least twice a year.”

“Only twice?” she said, sad at how little it would be.

“We’ll try to come more, but you know what’s going to happen with us soon,” Tarja said, continuing to rock her back and forth with me, “Neilla and I will be together and free of this life, so we’ll probably visit the most since she loves you almost as much as I do. Pho will be trying to convince himself that he doesn’t have feelings for his so-called apprentice so-”

“So, I’d be the only one left to visit after I slit Tarja’s throat tonight,” I joked, knowing that it would make her laugh.

She giggled as she picked her arms up over our heads and squeezed us both into a headlock.

“Thank you, guys. For everything,” she said, choking the life out of us.

After struggling free, we spent the rest of the ride reminiscing about old times. We talked about all the questionable jobs and the certain ones. I began reciting all the rumors that Visna and Tormir regaled to me. We laughed at the false ones and reflected on the others we wish weren’t true.

We got to the nearby village of Balsinn, a small trading post about a day’s ride east of Quintiff and a little bit south. That’s where I left Zita to close up a deal as part of her training to take over the brothel. I hopped off the carriage and we said our goodbyes. I waved to my older brother and sister as they rode off towards Mastema to get their portion of the gold from Mormo, an asshole Tiefling we received our most recent job from.

As I stepped back in to the inn Zita and I were staying in, I put the thoughts of Tormir and Visna to the back of my mind as best I could during what felt like a voyage up the inn’s stairs to my room.

I took a step in and tried to carefully sneak my way to the bed, knowing that Zita would be asleep already. The door creaked and scraped the ground as I tried to gently open it.

Zita shot awake with a, “Pho? Is that you?”

Quickly closing the door behind me, I said, “Yeah, it’s me. Finally got back from searching that village in the marshes for new workers.”

She shuffled in bed as I made my way over, leaving my clothes on the ground, and asked, “The Dragonborns in the marshes? How did that go, exactly?”

As I got under the covers, I said, “You were right. They were too set in their ways to consider working for us.”

She turned over and laid on my chest as she said, “Told you so. Can’t change them. They’re more stubborn than Dwarves.”

Hearing her mention Dwarves, my mind immediately thought of Tormir and Visna. I couldn’t get my mind off of what they said. I began to repress it again until I looked to her bedside table and saw the necklace she always wore, exactly the same as the one Visna revealed a drawing for.

“Did you hear me, Pho?” she asked, snapping me out of my trance.

“No, sorry. What was the question?” I asked, looking back at her.

“Why do you smell like smoke?” she questioned, readjusting herself on to my chest.

“There was a fire when I talked to the Dragonborns,” I told her, chuckling a bit, “Well, more than one fire.”

“Did anything important get caught in the flames?” she asked, wrapping her arm around my side.

“No,” I said with a smile, “Just a bit of hair I can grow back. Zita, can I ask you something?”

She looked up at me and cracked one eye open, her long hair covering the other, as she said, “Let me see your eyes first. I love seeing your eyes when you ask me something.”

I relinquished my glasses to the bedside table next to me and saw a tired smile hold on her face as she stared into my eyes and invited me to ask.

“That necklace, the one you always wear,” I started, pausing to gesture, “Where did you get it?”

Sighing deep and her warm stare turning into a tired glare, she said, “A jaded lover of mine. Long before I met you, if you’re worried about them.”

“No, of course not,” I told her, staring back at it, “Just...curious.”

“ ‘Just curious’?” she questioned, closing her eyes and placing her head comfortably against my chest again, “We’ve known each other for how long? And now you’re curious about my necklace? You know that’s suspicious, right?”

“I know, it just came up,” I reassured her, hoping that she’d take my word for it, “It’s well-crafted. Almost as if a Zealor artisan crafted it.”

“Pho...what’s going on?” she asked, keeping her eyes shut, “You’ve never asked me about it before. Why now?”

Thinking of a quick lie, I told her, “I was thinking about getting the workers a common piece of jewelry or outfit or something like that to show that they’re from my brothel. Do you think you could get in touch with who made-”

“No,” she said immediately, not waiting for me to even finish the thought.

“Alright, then,” I responded, knowing that she didn’t want to talk about it, “Well, could you at least tell me where-”

She looked back up at me with an angry look as she said, “Pho, you talk too much,” before giving me a peck on the lips.

As with every other time she had, I lost myself in her with a single kiss. She pulled away and immediately went back to her comfortable position on my chest as she told me, “Now, shut up and let me sleep.”

I simply laid back and let her soft snoring fill the room again. I stared at the ceiling and stayed awake the entire night. It was my thoughts keeping me up the most. I tried to figure out if I should ever tell her about the two I met at Quintiff, but I figured that if she was running from them, then she wouldn’t trust a man who had talked to them.

That was the first lie I ever told her. I’ve been telling her lies ever since, certain that she’ll leave should she ever find out. I’m Pho Dhizzle. I’ve killed more than anyone should ever need to. Faced monstrosities all across Serhya. Hell, I’ve even stared down a damn Archfey once. I’ve been called the Son of Serhya. I’ve been feared as the infamous and anonymous Silver-Tongued Snake of Serhya. Yet, against all odds, the most terrifying thing to me is telling the woman I love the truth about what I’ve been known as for over a decade?

“Damn, I hate myself.”

“What’d you say?”

“Nothing, Z. Just that ‘I need to sleep’.”

“Then sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

#tales of baicia #short story #Tarja Heeson #Pho Dhizzle #Seraphina Azlyn #mercenaries #rumors #d&d

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