Rise of the Blade - Charles Moffat [27]
Inside the statue Chev was fighting a mental struggle. He wanted to scream out loud. He wanted, no needed, to lash out at the man before him but couldn't so much as blink at him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kipriana crying and he wanted to soothe her and wipe the tears away.
He could do nothing though. Nothing but watch and listen.
The old man had Chev placed in the corner of his office and as the years past, the warrior watched him become more and more senile. Their money was starting to run low, the d'Or told him, and they were being forced to make alliances in order to keep their rich lifestyle.
Chev had a brief moment of joy when he learned that the old man had died late one night. He had developed an illness and a terrible cough. Finally the cough had gotten so bad that he was bleeding inside his throat. He had drowned on his own blood and Chev could only think about laughing. That joy didn't last though as he stayed where he was, eyes fixed forward, never sleeping.
Kipriana had come to him one night. There was a party down stairs and Chev could hear the musicians. She was older now and her skin was no longer pale. Standing before Chev's statue, she sipped on her drink as tears rolled down her cheeks and landed on the old red carpet. She swallowed sharply and ducked under his swordarm as she hugged him and leaned her head on his shoulder.
The repressed feelings within him built up to the point where he wanted to scream but could do nothing. He tried to order his arms to move and hug her but no such thing happened.
"I love you Chev," she whispered. She stepped back from him then and took her drink off the desk. Closing her eyes she finished it. The light in her eyes was no longer there when she opened them again. She was dead before she hit the floor.
Chapter 4
Waterdeep was quiet today. Initially, the explosion almost a week back had shocked the city and there had been an almost instantaneous buzz of events. Then it had quieted down and grown somber. Yesterday the noise had risen more than normal when people finally started to talk more again, indeed catching up on lost conversations they should have already have.
Perhaps it was just in comparison to yesterday that it felt quieter, the Doctor wondered. Much like hot tea feels twice as hot when you've been outside in the cold for two long.
He ignored his burnt tongue and set the cup down. "Its a little hot. I'll wait for it to cool a bit before a drink anymore."
Hiram nodded and downed his cup. "Can you taste the spices?"
Pierce shook his head. "Its so hot I can barely taste it at all. You didn't put chilli powder in it did you?" He knew the answer, as he always did, but such formalities led to more information.
"A little basel and some more rare ones I bought from Shamuni Dioune, but otherwise I think they work well together." The older man stretched his arms and stood. "The trick is that I can't taste the basel although I know its in there."
Pierce smiled as his father as the old man walked away. That last statement was practically a metaphor for his formalities. He knew something was there, but couldn't taste it. Couldn't experience it until he had actually done it. He let out a sigh and waited, knowing the drink would soon be cooler and ready to be tasted.
The black cowl slid off her head and revealed long white hair and skin the colour of onyz. Like a marble statue, she was a symbol of physical perfection. Her muscles toned and strong like an athlete's and she had the serene face of an angel as she cocked the crossbow before her.
So far down the crowded street that they barely seemed to be dots was a group of bodyguards that bestoke power. They were trolls, huge lanky things