Kiss of Death - Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"What do you think of him, Katrin?" Miranda asked as she threw herself onto her bed. Her arms stretched languidly behind her head, lifting her round breasts.

"Are you still considering the offer he made you yesterday? Well, I think he's out of his mind," Katrin said from her position by the fireplace. She was feeding wood into the blaze she'd started, happy for the warmth in the castle's chill air. "You're the one who's sleeping with him, so I guess I didn't pay much mind. He's the creepiest elf I've ever met... he is an elf, right; not a vampire or a dragon or a demon or something?"

"He's too warm to be one of the walking dead he surrounds himself with," Miranda responded, blushing faintly at the look Katrin gave her in reply. "He's not violent enough to be a demon either, and we've seen him around during the full moon so he's definitely not a Lycanthrope..."

"So, what's that leave us with?" Katrin asked nonchalantly while adding another piece of wood to the fire.

Miranda shrugged. "Well, he's got the pointed ears of an elf... and the patience. He's got the most beautiful white hair, almost as long as he is tall... and, uh... he... outlasted me in bed."

Katrin twisted from her crouch to look at Miranda, her interest piqued. "Really, now? Well, everything about him screamed elf until you said that last part. Doesn't do much to change my assessment of him. He's still as insane as a follower of Dhanshea. He's good in bed, though, that's a plus. Pretty too, as far as men go. That thing he does with his eyes is downright creepy, though."

Satisfied that her fire would hold for a few hours before needing more wood, Katrin stood slowly and sauntered over to Miranda. Her arms curled, almost possessively, around the priestess as she sat down beside.

"For a little over two weeks, since you started sleeping with him, I've held off any questions," Katrin said, planting a light kiss on Miranda's full lips. "He outlasted you, you say? I want all of the juicy details, love!"

---

Katiael sighed softly as he walked through the small human village of Soll. The fetid odor of the manure of cows, horses, dogs, and a myriad other animals permeated the air. The acrid odor of chimney smoke reached his nostrils, and the elf resisted the urge to gag as an old woman herded a flock of sheep across the cobblestone road before them.

The elf could feel every sharp, jagged cobblestone through the soft soles of his boots. He did his best to quash the sense of disgust he felt deep in his gut with a constant mental mantra:'it's not my culture, I shouldn't judge it harshly', but was only partially successful.

At least the streets were mostly clear of garbage, he thought quietly. Trees dotted the village at regular intervals, perhaps the only thing he had to be thankful for. They were still in elven lands, and the humans respected the ancient pact made long ago, even to the minds of the elves themselves.

Passersby eyed their party only slightly more carefully than they would a group of passing human strangers. To his eyes, they seemed less concerned about Solaliki's presence than his own. After all, stone giants were fairly common and enjoyed trading their statuary for exotic materials.

"Katiael, we're going shopping," Sivia said with a grin, giving his arm a slight tug to get his full attention. "Why don't you go find us an inn? Meet us in the main room. We'll find you when we're done."

"All right," the elf responded quietly, though Sivia had moved off so quickly he wasn't sure she'd heard him. Solaliki offered him an apologetic smile and a nod before she turned to follow Sivia through the bustling little community. Katiael sighed softly, letting his body come to rest against one of the trees that lined the road.

Katiael sighed again, enjoying the scratchy feel of the bark against the back of his neck. He turned his head, gazing back the way they had come, and felt instantly sick to his stomach as he viewed the forests that had been his home. Katiael closed his eyes and turned away, crushing his doubt and homelessness under an emotionless facade.

"You look tired," a dulcet voice said, snapping Katiael's mind back to reality like a crack of a slave-master's whip. His eyes set about to the task of searching for the speaker, finally settling on a human woman. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five years. Her shoulder-length hair was a fiery hue, a shade he had never seen among the various elven communities, even at the Great Meet that drew groups from nearly two-hundred miles distance. He found her strangely attractive, her thick frame was well curved in all the places a young male could appreciate. She was dressed conservatively in a simple tunic of white, shapely legs covered by thin, brown trousers. She wore a thick cloak about her shoulders, but in the absence of rain it was pushed aside to dangle lifelessly over her left shoulder. From her belt, partially hidden by creases of her cloak, the head of a thick, heavy mace glinted in the sunlight.

He must have been gaping, totally unable to cover his surprise at her approach. Her hand raised to her mouth to stifle a giggle. "Not used to being approached silently, I take it?" She asked with a smile that he found infectious. "Kedali's blessings be upon all good travelers, but I must wonder when you last rested."

"Four days and forty-three miles ago," he said quietly, trying to gauge this unknown woman's intent. "Before you ask another question, might I inquire as to who you are?"

"I'm Erika Sweetgrass," she replied with a slight bow. "Cleric and Druid of Kedali, the..."

"... human god of wilderness and travelers," Katiael finished, nodding slowly. "My name is Katiael, no surname, no titles. Just Katiael, a ranger in the service of none but myself."

"Succinct and to the point," she said, nodding in affirmation. "Just like a Ranger. I notice you're wearing Fenmarel Mestarine's holy symbol at your belt," she added, her gaze shifting down to his hip. "Chosen god?"

Katiael stared at her silently for a few moments before he finally responded. "Something like that. Elves don't worship a single god, we..."

"Pray to the whole pantheon, I know." she said, cutting him off in the same way he had earlier. "Anyway, you look tired, Katiael. If it's really been four days since you've last slept, please let me show you to the inn."

Nodding quietly, Katiael let the woman lead him through the well-traveled and bustling roads of the village of Soll.

---

A few minutes later Katiael found himself outside The Sign of the Blue Dragon Inn, Erika standing at his side. The elf pushed open the thick oaken door, and was assaulted by a wave of music and the voices of people trying to speak above the lutes as they enjoyed their supper. He strode forward quietly, but with a spring of pride in his step, and was surprised as conversation around him ground to a swift and unnerving halt.

The elf pressed on, his expression kept carefully neutral. Gracefully, Katiael appropriated a chair at an empty table near the door. "So," Erika said softly, as she took a seat of her own across from Katiael. The young woman clasped her hands together, fingers entwined, and rested her chin on her thumbs. "What's an Elf doing in Soll?"

"Waiting for his friend and little sister to finish shopping," Katiael replied without hesitation. His lips quirked into a faint smirk. "Though, I have a feeling that's not what you meant."

"You are correct," Erika said in response, a bemused expression crossing her face. "Going to guess at my real meaning, or would you like me to elaborate?"

"What I'd like," the elf responded, "Is to know what you believe I am here for."

"Indeed?" She asked softly, aware that the number of men and women crowding the tavern was growing by the minute, that all who could hear were hanging on every word.

"All right," She finally replied, "I suppose it's only fair. You created quite a stir when you arrived, you know. The news has spread to everyone in town... most of the townspeople are afraid that one among them may have broken the treaty, cut more trees than was allowed. They're worried that you're some kind of enforcer sent by the Green Council."

"But you yourself don't think that is so?" asked Katiael as he dodged the question once again.

"I'm not sure," the woman responded truthfully, "You have the bearing of a warrior, and proclaim yourself to be a ranger... a protector of the wilderness. Yet at the same time..."

"I didn't go immediately to your lord's castle to demand reparations," the elf finished for her. "Or that I seem to have no interest in doing any kind of enforcing?"

"That," she agreed, "and either you walk very slowly, or you're from one of the interior elven communities. The closest town we know of is less than a day's distance, a trading post where our two peoples meet. It would make more sense to leave from there, where there are plenty of supplies. Aand why send only one, and a wood elf to boot, when a high-elven phalanx would be much more persuasive?"

"In truth, Erika? I am just passing through Soll on my way farther south," Katiael said softly. "I have no wish to disrupt your town. And there is little need to for a spy to make sure you're upholding your end of the treaty. Yes, the elves do watch, but we also have faith in you. From what I've seen," he continued, "That faith is well placed. Your lands are well tended, your people and animals are well fed and both appear happy enough to me. Though my personal tastes don't include settlements of any kind, human or elven or dwarven - this one is clean, and your buildings are well maintained. I don't think the Cyvian Elves could find better neighbors anywhere else on this planet.

Erika smiled as her eyes flowed over the crowd. His words had calmed the fears and suspicions of most, though she saw a few in the back who either hadn't heard, or simply refused to believe. "Your words ring true, good ranger," she said. "I'm pleased to know that the elves feel that way. My contact with your people has been limited to an occasional druid coming to learn from a member of our order, or to let us know they'll be in the area for a spell. Though," she continued, "You still have yet to tell me why you've decided to grace our village with your presence."

"My reasons are my own." Katiael replied with a grimace, "But since you've asked so nicely, I'll tell you what I can. My family has always been a bit eccentric, by elven standards. We all have a touch of wanderlust, I think. Mother and father were always fond of travel. I think it's past time I took a good look at the world I live in... a passive role just doesn't appeal to me."

"An adventurer, then?" she asked rhetorically, "Good for you. I'm an adventurer myself... most of Kedali's servants are, or were at one point in their lives."

A squeaky, high-pitched voice said, "Good day to you, sirrah. And to you, Lady Erika. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Not at all, Sir Gidash," Erika responded as Katiael turned to face the speaker. One of the vacant chairs scooted back a foot, pulled out by a short creature. Kobolds possess a thin, reptilian build. They were a short race, with an elongated, almost dog-shaped head and a rat-like tail. Very intelligent, they were generally considered a blight by most human-like races because of their vicious, territorial nature.

Katiael found the image of a seated kobold, its shoulders barely visible above the top of the table, strangely humorous. He quickly crushed the urge to laugh, not wanting to insult this peculiar addition to the table.

"Dhanshea's blessing be upon you," the kobold said, bowing its head slightly in Katiael's direction. "I would shake your hand, but I'm afraid I'm not familiar with elven customs... and my hand would undoubtedly not reach far enough."

"Sir Gidash is a Paladin," Erika explained quietly, "In service to Dhanshea."

"Ah," the elf said softly. His gaze shifted to the Gidash. "One of Shimmerwing's Tribe?" he asked politely.

"Indeed," the kobold replied. "You know of her?"

"By reputation only," Katiael replied truthfully. "Her work is known to us. Elves tend to keep tabs on their neighbors, even ones as ancient and powerful as Shimmerwing. You never know when a dragon might need a little help, after all. Or a human city, for that matter."

"I have heard much about elven songs and stories," the kobold said with, what Katiael hoped was a grin, "Perhaps you could grace the tavern with one?"

The elf smiled faintly, "I'm afraid I didn't inherit much in the way of musical talent. Once my sister arrives, I'm certain she'd be more than willing. Though... I suppose my meager skills will do in the meantime."

---

Katiael's eyes glowed faintly blue as he stood between the tavern's light and the darkness outside. He enjoyed the night's cool breeze as he leaned against the corner of a now-open wall. It had been an invention by the bartender, allowing people easy access to a patio during the summer months. He explained that it was also convenient whenever a group of giants from the mountains came into the village to trade. One of his rivals, he mentioned, had giant sized rooms behind his - conveniently full, of course, due to a caravan that had come in a few weeks before and had yet to leave - yet no easy way for the giants to order food or drink.

Katiael found the idea of a removable wall intriguing, though the novelty had begun to fade. People mulled about quietly, more carrying drink than food, though a fair number had both. Most were enraptured by Solaliki's husky voice and well-played harping. A pipe-smoking man passed close by, oblivious to the elf's presence in the darkness, and Katiael's hand rose instinctively to caress the bridge of his nose, warding off tears as the pipe smoke reached his eyes.

A soft hand touched his arm as an equally soft voice reached his ears. "You look sad, Katiael. Yet your sister's song is one of joy. Is something wrong?"

"No, Erika," he replied softly. The crowd parted slightly, giving him a clear, if brief view of Sivia, dancing her heart out at Solaliki's feet. He smiled as his gaze shifted back to Erika. "I'm just tired, is all."

"Oh, I forgot completely!" she exclaimed gently. She tugged at his arm, pulling him towards the entrance. "After four days without sleep, I'm surprised you can still walk. C'mon, we're going to get you into a bed."

"The inn is full," Katiael replied softly, "Little sister's singing brought so many customers the innkeeper's been turning people away since the sun set."

Erika paused mid-step, an eyebrow quirking upwards in curiosity.

The elf shrugged. "I observe," he replied in answer to her unasked question, "I listen. I'm good at that, even if I couldn't sing well enough to save my life. Take that man over there," he said, gesturing with his chin, "the old balding man. His name's Anton Gryphonspire, he's a merchant who deals in exotic spices, and was the third person turned away from the inn.

The young woman bit her lip, "Do you mind sleeping in a chair?" she asked softly, "I'll share my room with you, and your woman friend... though your sister wouldn't fit inside, I'm afraid. But I'm sure that the innkeeper, Mr. McGreggor, is already working to prepare room in the stables for her."

"All right," he said after a time, "I accept your generous offer, Erika."

The two proceeded up the stairs, Katiael following a step or two behind his gracious hostess.

"You're sure you don't mind sleeping in a chair?" Erika asked, as she pushed the door to her room open.

Katiael's eyes gazed over the room, which was well furnished. Undoubtedly an expensive place to spend a night. He smiled as his eyes fell upon the chair in question. It was a thick, soft-appearing armchair, aged enough to be comfortable, while at the same time new enough to be sturdy and not prone to breaking easily.

"It'll do fine," he replied softly.

Erika nodded. "Make yourself comfortable. I think your friends will be winding down soon. I'll go back down to tell them where you are, and bring up the young lady."

"Sivia," he said softly as Erika released his arm. "Her name is Sivia."

---

The being moved soundlessly between a pair close-formed stalagmites, not even the rasp of scales on stone belied her presence. In the distance, a twinkling caught the creature's eye, though fifty years of parental care had taught her nothing but caution in the face of strangeness. The serpent was stricken by an intense curiosity like the one that had drawn her out of her mother's den to begin with.

Still, this occurrence was completely unknown to her limited experience. Light, visible light. She knew of some fungus that could produce a light-causing reaction when exposed to great heat. Her mother had called the reaction 'fire', but she had only seen it once. Hissing silently to herself, the entity crept forward, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to investigate.

The serpent emerged from a passageway only a foot and a half wide, into perhaps the largest cavern she had ever seen. Rarely used wings stretched wide as soon as they cleared the narrow crevasse. Making less noise than most mice, she rested her head on a nearby rock to take in the scenery.

The cave's ceiling glittered and twinkled strangely with light, revealing the whole of the cavern to her. The entity's mind boggled at the enormity, for she could not see the far wall. Miles and miles of cavern floor stretched out beneath her, complete with massive forests of strange mushrooms she had never seen before. Vague, smoky forms drifted by through the air as she observed, perhaps merely the smoke from the fires glowing in the cavern's roof. A massive, baleful white circle of light blazed down at her like the great eye of Tiamat. The slithering being cringed inwardly, though she realized there was naught she could do, for that great eye had seen her already.

"Perhaps this is Tiamat's great cavern?" she thought briefly, though dismissing that as pure fancy moments later. The hated Tiamat was said to live downward, her five-fold evil resting for eternity in the great fires in the center of all. Was this then, upwards and outwards, the dwelling place of the equally hated Bahamut?

The winged snake's body rippled and transformed fluidly, forelegs and rear now protruding from formerly unbroken scales. The dragon hissed in pleasure, overjoyed to be out of caves too small for her natural form. Wings unaccustomed to long flights stretched again as the entity launched itself skyward. An intense feeling of joy swelled in her breast as she realized she could fly as far as she wanted, without an opposite wall in sight to stop her, and miles of unexplored territory to see.

"Surely", she thought happily, "If this truly were Bahamut's cave, his great shimmering immenseness would not begrudge a curious young dragon a flight and a little sightseeing..."

Continued in Chapter 3

---