B.F.HUUPS
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32. Sneaking out
🕑 Added 2023-10-22 20:34:56 +0000 UTCEaron waited until it was dark. He could hear the rhythmic breathing of Lexi, confirming that she was asleep. Quietly, he tied drawstrings and lowered his cowl, and then crept for the entrance.
He barely knew the girl, but he felt guilty. Something about being dishonest to her just didn’t feel right.
But would she, or rather, could she understand his desire to meet a witch? Even if it turned out to be a waste of time, Earon knew he had to at least try. He knew that there had to be more to his sudden class change. Even Trudels, for all his wisdom, didn’t understand it.
Creeping through the unfamiliar streets of Saner by himself at night came with its risks, but Earon figured he would have to just face them if he wanted to learn more.
The alleys were long and dark and the nighttime brawls of street cats cast an ever-persistent cacophony across the first city of man.
“Psst,” came a voice from the shadows as Earon made his way down a winding alley. “Not from around here, are you?”
Earon turned; the man was large. As he crept forward from the shadow and his face was illuminated by the silvery light of the moon, Earon realized he was no normal man.
Tusks jutted out from the edges of his jaw and his ears were folded and elongated like a horse. “Passing here at night requires a toll,” he shoved out his unusually hairy arm. “Two hundred coppers.”
It was too much, even if Earon had the money. He took a step backward. Earon hadn’t wanted to fight chimeras, not after what Lexi had told him. But he couldn’t deny his desire to test his magic. Months of fighting nothing but Trudels's near-invincible golems had stirred an insatiable desire for Earon to fight something a little more, fleshy.
“Running away, little man?” The chimera hissed as two others appeared from the shadows behind Earon.
One hand already dipped in his pouch of pebbles as Earon readied himself, drawing a pebble out and holding it between his index and thumb, with several more nestled in his palm.
“Rocks?” The chimera chuckled.
One of the chimeras behind Earon inched forward; Earon flinched, and the beast-like man took it as a sign of weakness, leaping forward.
With only a few meters between them, Earon pivoted and flicked his wrist, flinging one of his pebbles toward the chimera. His timing was off, and the small stone only irritated as it ricocheted off the chimera's forehead.
Confused, the beast-man paused a moment as the others erupted in laughter.
Concentrate.
A pebble slid down Earon's palm and into his finger grip. Exhaling, he twisted his wrist into a flicking motion and sent the second hurling from his hand.
It was perfect. The pebble gained weight at just the right time and shot through the air at an unnaturally fast speed.
"Urgh!" The chimera coughed as the pebble slammed into his throat and sent him thudding backward into trash baskets that lined the brick wall behind him.
Without pause, Earon rolled another pebble into his grip and fired it toward the next chimera. It had been a predictable shot, and the chimera inched out of the way with a panicked dodge, sending the rock smashing into the sandstone behind it.
But Earon had plenty of pebbles, and before the chimera even managed to regain its footing, another was hurling towards it, slamming into its stomach, then another smashing against its chest.
The big one that had first threatened Earon charged into battle, grunting and huffing.
The distance between them was closed in an instant, a spiked club already within range as the chimera readied a strike.
The chimera had left its guard down against the unarmed Earon. Left-hand shooting forward, Earon managed to beat the chimera's attack, and a fraction of a second later, a staggering jolt of energy reverberated through the chimera, sending its strike fumbling to the side as it stumbled forward.
Earon kicked the beast-like man's chest and dropped another pebble into his grip. In a wide arch, he swung his throwing arm down and pelted the chimera in the chest, then another smashing into its face and drawing a spray of blood.
One of the previous chimeras rose back to its feet, and Earon effortlessly swung around and shot a pebble that smashed bone as it caved in the chimera's skull.
The big one was gasping as it struggled back to its feet, but Earon's barrage was relentless, and a hail of overweight pebbles smashed through its defenses as it helplessly curled up against the ground.
Three battered and bloodied chimeras lay sprawled across the alley and Earon hadn't taken a single hit.
"Want more?" Earon challenged, but he only received gargled whimpers in response, whilst one remained silent. Was it dead?
Earon shook his head. He hadn't asked for this fight.
"Good," he said, surveying the carnage one last time before dashing off into the night.
Whether or not the chimeras were evil, or just trying to get by, it ultimately didn't matter. Earon had to get used to the world outside of the Rye. That didn't necessarily mean he wanted to kill everything he encountered, but he couldn't shy away from what was necessary. They should have made better decisions.
It was left, wasn’t it?
Earon looked both ways. He had spotted the dark, pointed mansion as they walked through the city earlier, but that had been during the day. Everything seemed to look different now.
The faint outline of a hunched figure scurried down the alley to his right, though he only barely managed to catch it in his periphery.
The sight probably should have unnerved Earon, but instead, it beckoned to him, and he turned to the right without further thought.
Unlike Caedstad, Saner was not so eager to sleep, and candles still burnt in most windows, some bright enough to cast shadows into the alleys, and Earon caught himself turning and jumping at every flicker of light.
But anytime he grew weary and hesitated, the figure flashed by the edge of his vision, urging him on.
Soon, he found himself standing in front of a sprawling gothic complex hidden behind pointed, metal fencing. The black rooftops behind the fence pointed to the sky like dozens of jagged arrows. And a golden plaque sat beside the gate, reading - “Residence of Matron Mother Patricia.”
Earon reached out to touch the gates, but an inch before his fingers met the metal, it creaked open.
He hesitated a moment and asked for Jorral’s guidance. Then he stepped through.
Gardens surrounded the gothic, timber buildings, and upon closer inspection, Earon realized the plants were withering, twisted, and covered in thorns. However, despite that, beautiful black roses, vibrant with life sprouted across the deathly garden.
“This way,” a voice said from the shadow.
Turning to greet the voice, Earon stepped closer. As dim, purplish light from otherworldly lanterns illuminated the creature's face, he realized it belonged to a humble, sparrow-faced man, his eyes downturned.
Earon nodded, but he didn't feel it necessary to answer the strange fellow as he silently followed his directions.
A stone bridge took them over a dried-out pond, and strangely humanoid dogs perked in the yard as they entered, but calmed and returned to sleep the moment they saw the sparrow-faced man.
“Inside,” the assistant said as he moved to stand beside a towering, charcoal door, strewn with intricate carvings.
Earon nodded and passed, and as before, the door creaked open before he could reach for the handle.
The room beyond was dark, but a purple haze emanated from behind an ornate curtain at the far end.
“Enter,” came a harsh, sneering voice.
Earon did as he was told, walking until he stood only a couple of feet from the curtain.
“The cursed one has come to visit. A visit I relish, if only to mock the stupidity of my sister.”
“Your sister?” Earon questioned.
“Oh, so you don’t know. You have quite the history. Let me tell you. Though riddle perhaps? It would be no fun if I made things too easy for you.” A cackle erupted from beyond the curtain. “What goes where it is not welcome, yet where it only knows? It takes the colors of death, yet it is very much alive. It commands the loyalty of men, yet it holds no office. It is not bound by the rules of others, yet it is haunted by them.” The voice cackled again. “Do you know, Earon?”
“I don't understand any of that. What has this riddle to do with my class?”
“Who said I offered answers to the questions you ask? You come to me begging and then complain when I offer something for free?"
"I'm sorry, Matron Mother," Earon bowed, despite the curtain between them. "It is only that I wish to learn more about my warlock class."
"AND I OFFERED YOU A HINT!"
A cold shiver ran down Earon's spine. "Sorry, but is there nothing I can do to earn more than just a hint."
"No," Patricia hissed. "The cost far outweighs any value you hold. And whilst it would be fun, it is best I don't stir the hornet's nest."
“Tell me the price. Whatever it is, I'll make it possible.”
Laughter erupted from beyond the curtain. "Oh, little Earon. How much there is for you to learn. Perhaps in a hundred years, you will have something of value for me, but by then you might not care for the help. I hope you remember my words from earlier, as you will not hear them again. They might just help you learn something useful."
Earon got the feeling he shouldn't push his luck any further. "Thank you, Matron Mother. Your words have been most wise."
“Wise?" Patricia chuckled. "Save your flattery for vain mages and wizards. It has no influence here."
Earon bowed and took a step backward.
"Do make this interesting, Earon. Many sisters pry in the dark, waiting for that bitch to be undone. "
The moment Earon exited the room of the Matron Mother, his pace quickened, barely taking a breath until he was out of the sprawling complex.
He had more questions than before, and it seemed his nagging suspicions had been correct. There was something up with the witches, and somehow, he was involved.
Earon played back the riddle in his head, uncertain if he remembered the words correctly.
"Damnit," he hissed into the cool breeze that floated from the great lakes to the east.
He should've been paying closer attention to it. Had he really wasted his only opportunity to learn more about himself?
Curse these damn witches and their games!
