Burning Today Options

[Olen]

Some of you probably remember my last piece, Yesterday's Shadow and that it had a rather unsatisfying ending. I spent the summer rectifying this and now have a sizeable sequel/ completion to it which is itself now finished. It would probably be better to read Yesterday's Shadow before this as it would make more sense, however you should get by without it. If anyone wants I'll put a synopsis here, though Yesterday's Shadow isn't very long so you could just read it here (enough plugs yet?)

Anyway without further ado:

Burning Today

Prologue

Dervas wore boots while he worked. Shoes didn't last long in the decaying mixture of blood, vomit, drink and drugs which floored The Black Guar. The dark man had finally passed out and for the first time Dervas dared look at him. A worn man with a broken soul. Who are you? The Black Guar didn't get passing trade – the mixture of pushers, heavies and racketeers who made up most of his patronage didn't appreciate strangers. In the first hour the man, who now lay face down on the table, had knocked two out cold and broken another's arm. They left him alone after that and he them. Dervas wiped the remains of a line of sugar off the bar and nodded to the bouncer who went to move the man to his room.

Someone knocked at the door. Dervas ignored it. They knocked again, for longer this time. He cursed and went to tell whoever it was where to go. It was late an he didn't need any more trade. He pushed open the door, a curse dancing on his tongue. A sack crashed to the ground, gold clinked within. A Breton in black clothes stood in the doorway.

“What's his tab?” There was no need to ask whose.

“Sixty.”

The Breton showed no surprise, and counted out the gold. “Listen,” his tone offered pain if Dervas didn't, “You keep giving that guy drinks, drugs, whores, whatever he asks for okay? For him happy hour doesn't end, tabs never have to be paid. Push as much as you can into him. Don't worry - I'll be round a couple of nights a week to pay you. That sack,” he kicked disdainfully at the one he'd just dropped, “Contains a thousand drakes, payment enough I'd say. If he asks don't tell him, just give him more drink. Understand?”

Dervas nodded, his mouth was dry.

The man disappeared into the night.

Dervas walked back into the bar. He looked towards the dark man's room. Who are you? he thought again, And what have I gotten into?

[Olen]

Next bit and longer this time. It won't make as much sense without having read 'Yesterday's Shadow' though I guess you could work out what's happening.


1. Forgetting

I woke up with a scorching head, I was in a bed but had no idea of where or how. The skin was gone from my right knuckles. I cringed at the half light which slipped around ill-fitting shutters, an inn then. By the particular piquancy of the hangover I knew skooma and booze had featured heavily, maybe other stuff. I lay back and drifted into the timeless almost sleep of the morning after. Like a creeping glacier memories returned, I'd desperately needed something... Varnan was sick! I sat up and nausea hit me. I remembered I'd given him to a healer. The panic dispelled. I'd met Renera again after all the years. She'd gone. My stomach was a shrivelled bag of vitriol but even so I wanted a drink. So many years...

I stood, saw blood on my shirt and remembered fragments the night before. Not much to recall. I pulled it on anyway and pushed through into the bar. It was a dank hole, and that suited me fine. I waded though the remains of the reeds which covered the floor and, rather unsteadily, took a stool at the bar.

The barkeep appeared all smiles, “Scrambled kwama egg? I swear by it the morning after. Come on; its on the house.”

His words hurt my head and my right knuckles itched, I wasn't sure whether this was because I'd cut them on someone's face the night before or in response to my desire to wipe the grin from the dunmer on the other side of the bar. I resisted temptation and said, “Skooma is better, but I'll have the eggs too.”

He raised an eyebrow, “What sort of skooma do you want?”

“Your best. An eighth.” He scuttled away to get it from a room behind the bar.

The skooma was lousy but the eggs were tolerable. I told Dervas this.

“Sorry sir-”

“My name's Firen, I ain't a sir.”

“Of course, sorry,” he blustered, “You'll be staying here today? I'll go out and get better now.”

“Give me a bottle of greef first, I'll be in my corner.”

He nodded and put the bottle on the table before hurrying out. I took another mouthful of egg and suddenly my stomach flipped. I got as far as leaning before bringing my breakfast up on the floor, Dervas would just have to clean it, though I doubted he, or anyone else, ever cleaned that floor. I left my eggs and took the bottle and my pipe to the corner table.

I'd emptied the first one by the time Dervas reappeared and was looking up at the bar. There were a lot of bottles behind it and I was just sure that in the bottom of one I would find peace, or at least oblivion which is similar. Problem was which one? I'd just have to try until I found it.

***

I woke with a scorching head. After that I don't know much, days went by in a blur of vice and hangovers. I'd been on binges before, bad ones stopped when the money ran out. This was a bad one. But in the land of The Black Guar the money flowed in a bountiful river, and the barkeep never asked for the tab. I wandered about this in a few lucid moments, then I'd see my loose grey skin, the weight I'd lost, feel the pain in my gut. I knew it was killing me, so I drank and smoked the memories away.

It was evening, I think. I'd been vomiting all day and couldn't hold any spirits down. I was at a table with two of the locals playing crowns.

"Hear the news from Stent?" asked Tildas, the dunmer who was banking.

Llerri, the other, nodded. A deep scar cut across the right side of his face. I didn't know the history. I didn't care, "Yes, bad stuff. Makes you glad you don't live back country."

Tildas nodded, that way drunks do, "I say that if the Telvanni can't clean it up the temple should come and do it."

"As like as no it was a Telvanni."

"I haven't heard," I said, "What happened."

Both pairs of red eyes looked at me. Tildas was incredulous, "How can you not have heard? Oh stuff goes down out back country here alright, but away from the roads, and at night. Stent was annihilated in broad daylight they say. The townspeople were all found dead, whoever did it was inventive about it too."

"Aye," said Llerri with relish, "They say it was messy. People found disembowelled or scorched or freshly thawed," I wandered at how calmly he said it, "Plenty of signs of magic. Not that that'll surprise anyone."

"There's enough rouge sorcerers north of here," I agreed. It was my roll, Llerri wagered crowns and diamonds, Tildas spades. Three spades and two spots. I broke even.

Tildas took his drakes, "I hear there's been some trouble up at the fort too," I raised my eyebrows, "Not that interesting really..."

"Go on," I said and refilled his glass.

He smiled, "Well, other than Stent and a few messy killings on the road in the last couple of days I hear the Cult shrine is in uproar. That old basket Antonius Nuncius has been taking more from the bottle than anyone thought, apparently he'd been pinching from the donations. His novice reported him, some scrap about a patient going missing. Gods know why anyone would take someone there, Nuncius is a useless old fart. Meersa is far better."

I got a terrible sinking feeling. If only I was a little more drunk I'd have missed the implication, or not cared anyway. "What happened for a patient to go missing?"

Tildas looked confused, "Who cares? It's the Cult getting caught in the dump that's so great." He laughed.

"I care."

He stopped laughing. My reputation clearly preceded me. "Well," he said, "Far's I know he was just some adventurer, " he spat the word, "who went in too deep and got burned. No one local."

I swore. Copiously. If that wasn't Varnan I was a guar.

"What," asked Lleri, "Friend of yours?"

"I don't have friends. Now, what do you know of his disappearance?"

"Nothing really, everyone's talking about Nuncius," I don't think he could help a smile. Even so he was sweating. It surprised me, I hadn't realised I was so intimidating, "By the rumours he just disappeared overnight, one morning he wasn't there."

"Might have got fed up of Nuncius," laughed Tildas.

Varnan gone. Perhaps he had decided he was better and left, but at night and without saying anything? That didn't fit. I wasn't in the mood for this. I stood.

"Where are you going?"

"To ask some questions."

"What about the next wager."

"A decent play by Curio," I tossed him the buy-in, picked up my bottle and wandered to the bar. Foul stomach or no it had mysteriously emptied itself by the time I got there. Dervas already had a mug of greef poured, most folk drink it in small glasses, I don't. It too vanished.

"Catching up?" he asked as he poured another.

"No," I said taking a swig. Why the hell couldn't Varnan just be dull and simple? Surely it came naturally. And why did I have to find out about it? "What do you know about the disappearance of Ceril's patient?"

"Ceril? The novice up at the cult? I know someone went missing, nothing more really. He's kicked up a right stink about it, embarrassed them no end. Word is the patient just vanished, he was there at night and wasn't in the morning, the locks were all still shut."

This got better. Unconsciously I finished the mug. A new one replaced it. I couldn't be bothered but having broached the subject I continued, "I want to know more."

"Why? If I may ask?" there was something in his tone. Worry? "I'm not sure there is much more to know."

"If he's in a stick," I shook my head to clear it, "I may have to help him."

"I'm sure it's fine," said Dervas rather too quickly, "Here have some flin, it will help you relax."

I paused, I needed to find out more. To check he was alright. Why? The question was hard to answer, I just did. 'Why?' The other half of my mind replied, 'drink it'll go away. Everything does.' Why should I help Varnan? He could look after himself. But I should check at least. Why? The question blocked me at every turn, what was to gain? Things were good here, the booze flowed, I got enough skooma to keep the jones firmly away. I knew what was right. I should at least have a look.

Why?

Dervas looked at me, "Are you okay?"

I stood purposefully, ready to make a definite decision. For a moment I paused, maybe even twitched toward the door. Then I took the bottle from Dervas's hand and downed it. I sat heavily, my choice made. "Another of them, add it to the tab."

Another bottle appeared, the smile returned. "Anything else?"

"Another ounce of skooma." He was past looking shocked though I heard the dunmer next to me mutter something.

"Actually," said Dervas, "I got in a certain little something for you. One of the smugglers has got in some Tenmar, really hot stuff, I though you might like a try."

"Go on."

He produced a small vial, "Mind it's strong."

I nodded and retreated to my corner, bottle in one hand pipe in the other. He wasn't lying about its potency, before long the room wafted away on sweet clouds of whiteness. From deep in the fluffy haze I was aware of urgency, panic even. People crowded. Confusion.

This post has been edited by Olen: Oct 18 2009, 04:40 PM