Erulan of Goss
By Len Morgan
He
was young, resourceful, and a fully paid up member of the “Goss Purloiners Guild.” Erulan was licensed to acquire and fence,
illicit goods, through the guild at the advantageous rate of 10%.
He
was seventeen, 5’ 10”, wiry and muscular,
with dark shoulder length hair flowing loosely in the wind. He was Intelligent,
and well aware of the effect his perfect white teeth, and dark hazel eyes, had
on the female sex.
He
could enrapture listeners with endless yarns. He needed to hear a story once to
grasp its nuances, mannerisms, and the basic story line. He could then mimic
the teller well enough to deceive his family and friends. Women, of all casts, were drawn to and
captivated by his charm. The resulting nocturnal liaisons were the source of
countless pursuits across the rooftops of Goss; he had, in the past, escaped
parents, irate husbands, and wild eyed suitors.
He’d
secreted money, weapons, and disguises in various bolt holes, through out the
city, to aid him in his clandestine escapades.
Indiscretions were not his only reason for creating elaborate escape
plans. Erulan, a resourceful and successful
thief, despite his age had amassed a tidy fortune at the expense of
others. There wasn’t a wall he couldn’t
scale nor a lock he couldn’t pick in under a minute. The Guild-master called him arrogant and
cocksure, but liked him regardless, being reminded of himself at that age,
there was no denying the boy’s talent.
His attitude put many backs up which was why, he assumed, he was now being
pursued across the city, by a pod of stalkers from the “Assassin’s Guild”.
He was aware, there were two assassins tailing, him but he was more concerned with locating the third. There would be two to harass and harry,
whilst the third lay in wait somewhere up ahead. He could sense they were herding him towards
the Eastern gate so decided upon a detour, through a sprawl of dilapidated
burned out ruins. He would head for the South wall of the city where he had a
little surprise in store for them. He stopped, looking back anxiously he took a
drink from his water flask. He bent to replace it in his pack, he heard a thud
and on straightening he discovered a stiletto, throwing knife, imbedded in the
door post level with his head. He briefly saw movement in his peripheral vision
as the assassin moved on to a fall back location.
“Oh
you’re good!” Erulan whispered, ‘and
expensive I’ll be bound,’ he mused, ‘so
what have I done to warrant such specialist attention I wonder?’
He
looked down at the ruby ring on the middle finger of his left hand; it had
been hidden, in his clenched fist, until now. It began to glow red and pulse as he
entered the burned out area. The ring
was a recent acquisition he’d purloined from the room of a visiting
priestess. It was shaped like a five
pointed star, and now pulsed with an inner fire. He placed it in his belt
pouch, but it glowed through the thick calico. He wrapped it in coarse linen, until it was
hardly visible, then he headed towards the Southern wall of the city. But, as he passed an undamaged doorway
something told him to enter, as he did so a crossbow quarrel hit the door jamb
where his head had been. He didn’t understand why, but he had twice avoided
certain death; coincidence? He didn’t
believe in coincidence; his pouch was now glowing red, no longer pulsating, he took
out the ring. Its light revealed an incised shape on the wall at head height
just inside. He compared the shape to the emerald; he reoriented the stone to
match it. Then somehow the stone was drawn into the shape, and his surroundings
changed abruptly; he was now at the South wall; his destination!?
The
ring had lost its glow, ‘magic!’ he
thought a cold streak of fear coursed down his spine at the realisation... ‘Why did I rob a priestess, was I mad’? At once he knew ~ this was why he was being
pursued. His first thought was to return
the ring, which would make sense. But, he was now miles away from her lodging
house and he was being chased by a pod of stalkers, when those hounds took an
assignment they would keep on his trail, until they kill him no matter how long
it took them. His only chance was to
hunt them down and wipe them out… He had funds and weapons stashed close by,
his course was clear ‘kill or be killed’.
What
do I need, Weapons and funds. I can’t
return the way I came so I’ll head for the Eastern gate, where the third hound
will be waiting. The best route would be the aerial road, around the wall and then across the rooftops. He climbed the South
wall and travelled toward the East gate, and then crossed over to the
rooftops. The best view point would be
from the gatehouse above the gate. He
retraced his steps and traversed back to the wall.
‘Good plan,’ he thought and made his way towards
the gatehouse. The area where he planned to wait was in deep shadow, but as he
approached he froze, he’d seen a glint of movement within the shadow area. That
must be number three. Has he seen me? He
crouched low so as not to give ‘3’ a target, then felt the wind from a quarrel
as it passed; a near miss he could turn to his advantage “Aagh!” He
screamed then lay silent removing a knife from his belt. He lay there for minutes but nothing
happened. He was about to make a move, when ‘3’ moved first. ‘Of course he would have to confirm the kill
and return the ring to its owner,’ he reasoned.
“You’re
a dead man, that quarrel was tipped with blaqero poison." He waited. Erulan lay there unmoving. ‘3’
waited, to be sure the poison had taken effect, then he approached and leaned
over, knife in hand. Erulan’s blade stabbed deep into 3's chest, his fingers
lost their grip on his blade and it fell; the tip grazed Erulan’s neck…
“Bastard!”
He yelled in frustration, then looked over the parapet to see if anyone had
heard his cry. He saw two men look up, and head for the steps to the
gatehouse. Erulan headed to where ‘3’
had been waiting. He picked up the crossbow and quarrels and aimed at the
gatehouse steps. The first headed in his direction. As the second topped the steps, Erulan shot him. He died in silence, so the first was unaware of his
fate until the second quarrel took him in the head.
Erulan’s
vision was becoming blurred, so he dropped the bow and took an astringent pad
from his kit and applied it to his neck, reasoning that No.3 wouldn’t use fatal
poison on his blades in case he accidentally cut himself or a member of his
pod. Then he retreated rapidly along the
wall and over the rooftops. It might be
days before the bodies were found, but he still didn’t know what, if any, poison
had been on that third assassin's blade. He knew a pod had
three members, so It would be a while before the priestess set another on his
trail. He returned to the place where he’d originally used the ring, and thought of the
room where the priestess was lodging.
.-...-.
“I
thought you would return once you sighted the pod. I’m surprised you are not
dead. I am Mayli…”
“Erulan,”
he said, “I’m afraid your stalkers are dead. I hope you weren’t too fond of them…”
“Let
me see that wound. His blade was tipped with a paralysis brew, you were lucky
to get here before it took full effect. Ah just a scrape, you’ll live to tell
the tale.” She removed a small leather purse from a pocket in her robe, she
opened it and removed a ring, matching the one he was still wearing, his was
glowing red, Mayli’s ring was glowing green. “They are twinned you see,” she
placed it on the middle finger of her left hand. “I will have need of your services,
in a sense you now belong to me and will do my bidding for as long as you are
needed.”
He
tried to remove the ring from his finger, but it was immovable.” What witchery is
this?”
“You
will need to cut off your finger to gain your freedom,” she said and smiled.
“So
what do you want of me?”
“Unlike your many conquests, I have no need of your body. It's your talents I require; so you are
free to go for now, but when you're needed, you will know…”
Copyright Len
Morgan
