Elan Pt. 04 - A Sure Way to Hell

A Sure Way to Hell

----

A month had now passed since that night in Vitvarg, the swaying form of Talos' elf still floating through Torvald's mind every now and then. He had finally arrived at the small residence his employer had took up while she awaited him, not far into Skymarch within Imperial territory.

Torvald grinned. The day was finally here. The man had, for once, actually bathed the following day in a near-frozen pond within Graelyn's Pass in anticipation. He wore his best under-trousers, and ensured his pecker had still worked in the morning after another cold night in the frozen wastes of the north.

Here, not twenty miles from the pass, snow had refused to fall quite so early in the year. The annual harvest had only just ended, a sign of several cold months ahead for the peasants of Skymarch.

Torvald walked up the steps of the small residence a happy man. He spied the sorceress with lust, the woman stroking her hair with a fine brush as she peered in a personal mirror facing away from him.

Her hair, bright as gold, fell softly to the woman's backside. She wore a light tan bodice and a very short skirt, as well as a leather choker on her neck. The hemline of the skirt would have reached her knees had the sorceress not possessed the most voluptuous ass in all the empire; for now, the skirt lay contentedly not two inches from revealing her assets, the fabric pushed behind her as it lay on her naked bottom.

Torvald knew the sorceress must have been aware of his imminent arrival, dressing like the little slut that she was. His member slowly hardenend under his clothes as he looked her over.

"Ah, Torvald!" the woman exclaimed, having seen his reflection in the mirror. "I trust you were successful?" she asked sultrily, her need of his cock obvious to the adventurer.

"I was, m'lady," he replied, fetching the stone from his pack and holding it up. The woman sighed happily, turning to face him and strutting to grab the stone.

"Not as pretty as I thought it'd be," she joked as she investigated the rock in her grasp.

"Not as pretty as you, no doubt," Torvald suavely replied.

The woman smiled before returning to her desk with a spin, her skirt deciding to grant the man a quick flash of her cheeks. She grabbed a purse full of gold Imperials and tossed it towards him.

"My thanks, Torvald. Your payment in full." Torvald caught the coinpurse before placing it on the table beside him.

"Oh, not the full payment I believe. My lady," he rebuked, eyeing the curvy form before him. He was now straining against his pants. The sorceress giggled as he spoke.

"That's right... You're going to fuck me now, aren't you Torvald? Because I'm a little slut? Because I..." she paused, peering towards his crotch and biting her lip, "need your cock?"

The man nodded, the sorceress's expectations of future events clearly matching his. He began to unlace his pants as her voluptuous body sway towards him, eyes locked to his. His mind began to cloud as he fixated on every movement she made... and every word she spoke.

"I think I've a better idea, Torvald," she began, her voice immediately transforming into one far more serious.

"I think... no, I know, that you're going to leave those coins there on the table," she continued, the man's mind getting more fogged-in by the second.

"And you're going to leave this house, depressed that a beautiful sorceress did not want to sleep with an ugly wretch such as yourself."

Torvald felt his mind falling into a deep abyss before his mind went blank.

"And you're going to kill yourself. I don't care where. Just not here."

Torvald agreed to the enchantress's statement without any hesitation, and returned down the steps from whence he came.

--

A month of travel passed quickly for Talos and Casiama. The ever-present snowbanks of northern Isbrygga eventually gave way to the plains and grasslands in the southern part of the region, and had even opened up into a massive, beautiful caldera of hot springs at one point.

They were now trudging through the grasslands once more, having soaked and enjoyed the hot springs for far too long. It's not that the pair were in any particular rush to get where they were going; they just finally noticed each other's carefree behaviors at the springs, and had decided to tear away from its glory lest they become slothful. Or perhaps even fat, Talos worried.

The wanderer and the princess were now entering Graelyn's Pass, a small mountain road which provided access to the cold lands of Isbrygga from the Empire to the south, and back again if one found the urge. Sharp peaks rose proudly to either side of them as they walked through the lightly-trodden twelve-mile pass.

Before the sun could set coldly behind those peaks, Casiama decided to find shelter for the night. She fortunately spotted a cave, just off the road, and beckoned her lover to join her there. She summoned their bedrolls and dinner from her ethereal plane with a dainty flick of her wrist, while Talos summoned a fire with sticks, logs and flint, as well as quite the bit of effort.

Once Casiama felt the fire's embrace, she allowed herself to get comfortable; as she was accustomed to do. A hand traced over her willowy form banished her clothing from the world, replaced only by a soft, white-fur miniskirt and her white-and-gold cloak. She swayed towards Talos as he ate by the fire, perching beside him on her knees with the cloak between her and the floor. She draped the corner of the fabric over his shoulders, and gazed lovingly at the man.

Talos smirked, his eyes flickering between her beautiful eyes and her perfect breasts. He chided her between bites of venison. "Cass, ish rude to watch someone as they eat."

Her gaze didn't leave him, and she smiled sweetly. "Where else would I look?"

The man shrugged, then nodded out towards the ravine they were camped atop. Casiama didn't bother following his nod, but giggled softly and nudged against him instead.

"I'm getting very comfortable out here, I fear. Out on the road with you. When will you break my heart and settle, Talos?" she asked softly, halfway between a jest and a statement of sorrow. Her mind was still on the hot springs they had left earlier in the week.

Talos gulped down his food, handing the remnants of the skewer to Casiama. She shook her head and placed a hand on it, banishing it from sight in a blinding flash of white.

"I might have eaten that," Talos smirked. He sighed, then continued speaking.

"But to answer your question? Not for a while. The call of the road never ceases, Casiama, even when you reach the end. 'Cause then there's the sea, and if you get on a boat you can find a thousand thousand other roads on the other side."

Casiama shook her head with a giggle. "Are you trying poetry again, Talos?"

He shrugged, pulling her in closer by grabbing her soft cloak. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Perhaps. And if I was?"

"No troubador will be jealous, I assure you," she teased into his ear. He nudged her playfully, just enough to let her lean gently to the side. She pushed back with her shoulder and a smile.

"Then give me your glorious rendition of 'Where the Road Meets the Sea'," he said, amused. Casiama glanced away from him and towards the fire, speaking softly after a moment or three of thought.

"To wander aimlessly along the road is a simple feat, having heard the voice in your heart telling you to go on. Yet now you reach the shore; you listen to the waves strike the cliffs, you read the unreadable sea. You listen to the voice again; what language does it speak, Talos? Will it speak the same to me, as it does for you? You'd like to think that it will. But you wonder, you wander, and you will never know until you set sail."

Casiama's gaze returned to him, and the princess held the sweetest smile. She let her hands fall softly atop her skirt.

A silence overtook the pair for a minute, only interrupted by the crackling wood of a small fire and the howl of a far-off wolf. Both elf and man were grinning as they stared into each other's eyes, green orbs twinkling in the dim firelight. Talos broke the silence with a chuckle.

"Fuck you, Cass." He wouldn't try his hand at poetry again for years to come.

--

Talos and Casiama were deep within Graelyn's Pass the following day, not two miles from Imperial territory. Talos pondered woefully as he inspected the swinging body of a man he had just seen in perfect spirits but a month ago.

"It just doesn't make sense," he said gloomily to no one in particular, a hand on his chin. "Happy men about to make a huge haul don't simply commit suicide."

Casiama stepped towards him as he spoke and rested a light hand on his shoulder.

"Perhaps it wasn't suicide. He could have been attacked by bandits? Left for dead?"

Talos shook his head and stepped towards the corpse swinging from a heavy tree branch.

"Nah. There isn't any blood, and a man like Torvald would have went down fighting. Besides, his pack's open, yet none of his valuables are missing. Not even the coin," Talos explained, throwing the light pouch half-full of silver and copper Imperials towards the elf. He kept searching through the pack, looking for something in particular.

"He didn't seem in bad spirits, I agree. He seemed quite happy reminiscing of the 'goo' ol' days' with you, Talos," the elf affirmed softly, making her best impression of the man with those three words. Talos returned from the bag, having not found what he was looking for.

"Not funny, Cass. The casting stone's missing as well. Perhaps the sorceress he was to meet forced him to do this. Somehow..."

He thought back to Alanna. Imagining that an enchantress had the power to force a man to kill themselves was a nasty thought. There were no better method of finding a sure way to hell, if Imperial superstition was to be believed.

"That's ridiculous. Who would do such a thing?" the elf questioned in disbelief, her words getting quieter as she spoke.

"Someone looking to hide their tracks," Talos said, pointing to the corpses unlaced fly. "Or someone who Torvald happened to piss off."

--

The pair continued their march southward, somber from the sight they witnessed earlier in the day. Talos had cut Torvald's body loose and buried him in a shallow, unmarked grave alongside the road. Casiama whispered a few words to the Eternal Lady above, wishing for her to grant the man's soul mercy when they met. Then, the two departed. There was nothing more to be done.

Talos was quiet, reminiscing of his time with Rayya as he neared her birthplace of Aindarna, the capital of the County of Skymarch. Casiama wore her hood to cover her hair and ears, a necessary precaution when traveling through human lands. The two stopped suddenly as Casiama noticed the large presence at the gates of the city.

"Not good," Talos said, pointing out the obvious. "Cass, you'll need to take the long way around." He drew a rough path through the foothills above the city with a finger.

"What about you?"

"I'm going in. I need to see what happened here."

Talos walked alone towards the gates of Aindarna, listening to the words on people's lips.

"The Marquis is dead! Do not be alarmed, his son is fastly returning from Imperia and will resolve all manner of issue!" the fat town crier in black and purple shouted, attempting to reassure the growing crowd. Talos pushed his way through the distressed mass of bodies and leaned in to question a nervous-looking guardsman.

"My man, what happened here?" He asked in a loud whisper, looking calm and hoping to use the greeting to build trust.

"Ah, is the ol' man Markees. He's said to of killed 'imself by slashin' his own tongue from 'is mouth while a'lookin' through his missin' daughter's bedroom. A sad day fer us," he explained, Talos quickly coming to a conclusion.

Shit. Rayya.

Talos ran through the evidence as he stepped through the dusty town, eyes cast on the narrow road before him. It were too much of a coincidence; Torvald was an idiot, sure, but he would never kill himself. He was too self-assured. And the Marquis? Talos barely knew the man, but he had seemed too stubborn and prideful to have ever committed the sin. Cutting his own tongue in Rayya's room? The man hardly cared for the little girl, merely using her as a pawn in his game of feudal power.

And Rayya. She had despised her father, him forcing her to wed an ugly lord thrice her age. The perfect motive, one that none would believe.

Sure, she certainly had incredible powers of enchantment. Powers that had likely grown tenfold after studying for two years in Catriona. But why kill Torvald? What need did she have of this "casting stone"? What the fuck is a casting stone? Too many questions, not enough answers.

The worst part about Talos' ponderings was that if Rayya was back, that meant he had failed her. Talos had looked everywhere for the girl when she went missing, including breaking into the keep of the Marquis of Skymarch and scouring his massive dungeon complex. Talos sought her for months after she had stopped reaching out to him telepathically, barely resting as he turned over every stone and looked under every cranny of the Empire.

And why hadn't Rayya reached out to him if she were alive? Was he next? He skimmed his own feelings, ensuring he hadn't gained a sudden appreciaton for self-harm. He was fairly confident they parted on a high note, but had to make sure.

Alright. In the clear so far, Talos thought to himself. He exited the city gates opposite from where he began, trudging towards the foothills to track down his elven companion.

The man day-dreamt as he walked of one day in particular, years ago when he was traveling with that happy young enchantress...

~~

A beautiful sky with only a couple of whispy, fleeting clouds hung brightly above Talos as he walked through the streets of Harvath years ago. He was holding the reins of his chestnut mare, Sofia, guiding the horse through the winding roads between the closely-built structures of the small Imperial town.

Atop the horse was a smiling, blonde-haired girl, her eyes darting excitedly over the many market stalls and windows they passed. She sat side-saddle, as she had been raised to do, and allowed Talos free reign over the horse's movements. They weren't in any rush today.

"Say, Talos," she said to him playfully. He turned his face towards her, smiling brightly when their eyes met. She pointed to his back. "When do you think you'll show me how to use that thing?"

Talos smirked. "Never, if I have any say in it," he replied, knowing she was talking of the crossbow slung to his back. "Holding a weapon implies you're a threat, so an attacker would have no choice but to end you," he explained matter-of-factly. Yet the girl pouted.

"But if I had an attacker, wouldn't it be better if I knew how to use a weapon?" she asked childishy, but correctly. Talos shrugged.

"I'm still right, and you're still wrong, kid." Damn right, he thought.

The pair passed through the food market in the center of town, Talos purchasing an assortment of fruits and vegetables for the short journey to the Imperial capital. The metropolis was only a week away, and he could also hunt in the mean time.

Rayya dismounted the horse behind him, tapping him impishly on the shoulder. He turned towards her, a smile appearing on his rugged face as their eyes met once again. She pointed to a child in the street in rags, begging for mercy from passerbys.

"Talos, can you help him? He looks so sad..." Rayya whimpered. Talos shrugged her finger off of his shoulder.

"Rayya, he's just a street kid. You feed one and the flock'll descend on you. Besides, he'll just have to find more food the next day, and then the day after that. Starvation is merely the world's merciful way of saying there's just too many people living right now."

She gasped, slapping him across the cheek. He let it slide; as he always did for her. "You can't honestly believe that, Talos!"

He opened his mouth to reply, but stopped himself. She would hear him anyway.

Yeah. That is kind of fucked up, huh.

Rayya nodded, her glare boring into Talos like a needle point. He groaned, then turned to the fruit vendor to purchase another bag of assorted fruits and vegetables, fishing out an additional six coppers from his coinpurse.

Once the loaded bag had been handed to the man, he passed it along to Rayya. "Here. Go make his week, kid," Talos said gruffly.

Rayya pushed it back into his hands with a pout. "No, Talos. You need to do it," she declared with a rare, chill cold on her words.

Talos shrugged. Fine, he thought to her. Her glare persisted, so Talos turned away to walk towards the street urchin. He held out the bag as he arrived, dropping it into the kid's arms.

"Here, uh. Little man. Enjoy it," Talos said, unsure of what to say to a beggar. The kid opened the sack, his eyes lighting up at what he found. His hands quickly delved into the bag, retrieving a shining red apple which he bit into with enthusiasm.

"Thank you, milord. Thank you..." the child choked out, tears already welling in his eyes.

"Oh gods," Talos groaned, rolling his eyes. "You're welcome, kid."

He glanced away then, unable to keep his sight on the beggar. He brought a hand to his cheek, then trudged back towards a grinning Rayya with her hands on her hips.

"See?" she said pesteringly. "Even you can be a good person sometimes."

~~

Talos brought a finger to his eyes in the present. That day in Harvath with Rayya was the day Talos had finally learned he was truly an ass. And the day he had sought to remedy it. According to Alanna, his ex-lover, Talos still had much work to do in regards to this; but wasn't life just one big learning experience, anyway?

"Talos..." Casiama muttered, stepping from behind a tree before him. He had been walking with his head downcast, perhaps worrying the elf.

"Hey, Cass. Ready to go?" he asked with a forced smile.