Mordren watched from his barely opened window as the dark brown haired archer handed a husky, male mage trainee his bow. A brief glance over the plush, yet harshly tanned Human features told the mage that although this male was used to working outdoors, it was likely by his own choice. The comfortable stride, the air of privileged familiarity, and the well-spoken Common made it obvious that he was of a higher class than usually crossed the Sunfire Mercenary's threshold in person. While he seemed physically able enough to be enlisted, the crest of the Purple Dragon rested uneasily upon him. Mordren immediately wondered what this milk-fed male had to do with Silveredge- was he the petty noble suddenly missing his consort? The pained patron who'd been missing her company since her nights were now claimed by the courtyard of the Sunfire Mercs instead of some dark spot in the city's short alleys and side streets?
The archer's dog- a medium sized, short-haired mutt with sharp ears and dark brown blotches on an otherwise milky white hide- had been commanded to heel some distance away from the area where Kronmyr and Silveredge were practicing. The thing whined miserably, displeased at being separated from her master. Mordren sensed no familiar-like bond between the two, but noted the way that they responded to each other, nevertheless.
Some days before, Kronmyr had indeed been persuaded- with less coin than he'd wanted to receive, yet more coin than Bann had wanted to pay- to train Silveredge himself, instead of handing her off to one of his advanced students. At Kronmyr's insistence, Silveredge did away with respect and caution, displaying all the power, discipline and focus that she'd had to have with her former tutor, which was interesting in and of itself. The dark Elf, for his part, fought her with so much more energy than he normally devoted to training that Bann had twice warned him not to kill the Shadar-kai. Still, the sessions were so explosive that other mercenaries- trainees and experienced operatives alike- had taken to watching them from the borders of the courtyard. So few of the others had seen a spiked chain at all, let alone in action, that all were astounded at what she already knew of the implement- which she quietly treated as holy. Of course, when Mordren brought both men back the news that Silveredge's previous tutor had been a semi-feral vampire whose actions had to be constantly monitored, her strange tolerance for all-night, semi-public, and outright dangerous training sessions become completely understandable.
This particular night's session had begun later in the evening than was normal for both parties, and so had continued long enough for the sun to rise up over their work. Most of the lookers-on had gone to bed, somewhat unwillingly, when Bann reminded them that they all had duties or jobs that would require early morning energy. Mordren's wife, however, was still present, fixing Silveredge's every movement with an intense, but silent brown-eyed gaze. Neither Kronmyr nor Silveredge could be quite sure whether or not she approved of either of them, but neither had much time to care, either. Mordren alone knew what her occasional, vaguely amused smirks or her focused, serious gaze meant, and he rarely found it necessary to share his knowledge- or any of his knowledge, for that matter- with anyone.
Silveredge was in the process of blocking shuriken with her chain when the archer approached. While there was no physical sign that she had noticed him, Mordren's ever-present tendril of divining energy told him that not only had she sensed the young man's presence, she had already begun attempting to weigh his intentions before he had come within thirty feet of her.
Well done. A skill so well used that it's nearly another spell, and it's performed without her even thinking about it.
"I am Iordyn Raibeart the Younger, come in the name of the Purple Dragons- I hope you'll forgive the interruption," the young Human said smilingly as he stopped just outside of the wooden circle that separated the training area from the rest of the courtyard. The dark Elf's response was to simply aim his next weapon at the interloping archer, and since Silveredge knew that there was no way that the bowman could possibly dodge fast or far enough, she turned, slung her chain away from her left arm to wrap it around the jagged shard of metal, then tugged it back toward herself. The archer turned his face from both weapons as Kronmyr's weapon whizzed by to bury itself harmlessly into a tree, then looked back at Silveredge with a grateful smile.
"That... was useful..." Kronmyr panted, immediately turning his back on Silveredge and Iordyn. "So I'll allow it. Don't stay up long, Rasha. New weapon tonight."
"My lord is kind," Silveredge responded without pause, bowing her gaze to the ground.
On the second floor, where he nursed his tall beer as though it would be the only one he would drink that day, Mordren smirked. Compared to baked straps, vinegar baths and salt lined beds, of course, he thought as he took another sip.
"Training?" Iordyn asked lightly as he followed Kronmyr inside with Silveredge just a few steps behind him. The tightly wound dog, who had to be reminded to sit still outside, whined as though she would soon bark. Mordren had only to turn around and walk to the other side of his room to get in earshot of the conversation again.
"I suppose you're off to put down a bandit raid or to take care of a coterie problem in the name of the Sunfire Mercs sometime soon?" the archer continued, a note of comedy in his voice.
Silveredge either did not perceive the humor or ignored it entirely. "My lord Bann has not yet seen fit to send me anywhere," she replied with no hint of jest. When the mage could see her, he noted that she had remained at a very careful two pace distance from the archer as she spoke. "His handmaiden must assume that her lack of education in all this weapon's fine arts is what prevents her from being truly useful."
"Or he could be hiding you, Silveredge," Iordyn volleyed, turning around to fix her with a strong look. The change in tone had been so sudden that Mordren's wife, who had decided to follow them at a much farther distance, registered a faint flicker of surprise.
Mordren felt Silveredge quickly shield herself with a protection spell as she dropped her gaze to the floor. To all eyes, she was being submissive.
Wonder of wonders- a ward that shields her from good. Not likely that this fine gent would be able to pierce her circumlocution anyway.
"I called you twice in the market."
No response.
"I know you heard me."
Still nothing.
So this is a routine, Mordren thought, remembering how Silveredge had presented him with the same brick wall passive stance. Bann and Howler- when the houndmaster even attempted to speak to her- had suffered such stone-quiet responses as well. Kronmyr, however, who had told Mordren that he never had such difficulty, had derisively informed Mordren that he simply was not giving the correct commands.
The mage looked over at the hooded female figure, and even though the two did not even meet gazes, the female mage standing casually in the shadows quietly turned to her right and moved up the staircase nearest her.
"Look me in the face and tell me that Silveredge is not your name," Iordyn urged quietly, taking a half step toward her. "Tell me I'm wrong."
There was a brief pause during which it seemed that Silveredge would again not dare to speak. Then, as Silveredge lifted her hollow, platinum eyes to the archer's brown ones, there came the very quiet, "That is not my name. My lord is wrong."
At first, Iordyn's face contorted into a look of utter surprise. It lasted for just a moment, then was replaced with a determined glare. Having seen such a look on other faces before, Mordren moved slowly toward the top of the stairs opposite his retreating wife, not bothering to muffle his footsteps or otherwise mask his approach as she had decided to do.
The archer ducked down slightly so that he could look Silveredge in the face. "Ser Unessmus was wrong, then? To call you Silveredge? To tell me that that was your name?"
Silveredge stopped looking at Iordyn and instead stared beyond him blankly, as though she hadn't understood his questions.
Not giving the correct commands, hmm?
Mordren decided to ease his way downstairs, and at the courtyard entrance, the archer's dog began whining its discomfort with his presence.
"Ser Unessmus told me that your name was Silveredge, and that you were married to Aleksei. Did he lie to me when he said those things?" Iordyn asked with some frustration. The sharp charge of accusation laced it, making it icier than it may have been intended to sound.
Silveredge looked Iordyn in the face again, and her eyes reflected a distant disturbance, so faint that Mordren had to stop on the stairs to sense it.
"The handmaiden is not sure how to answer, as she cannot tell her lord what Ser Unessmus may have been thinking when he said those things. The handmaiden begs you to remember that she was not fully in health when first she met you."
Iordyn turned his head to one side as though he'd been soundly slapped. "Neither was I," he managed through clenched teeth, "yet you cannot tell me that I did not hear Ser Unessmus call you by name- by a name that you are now refusing to own."
"Rasha, I believe you are delaying our training session," Mordren said at last, considering the beer in his flagon as he spoke.
"And who are you?" Iordyn asked with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms.
The mage looked up and smiled, and as Iordyn caught his eyes, Silveredge suddenly felt in her soul that this contact was far worse than when had first Vhalan locked eyes with Oakarm. She immediately dropped her gaze to the floor again.
"My lord does no wrong when he speaks."
Mordren suddenly snapped his attention to Silveredge, and Iordyn drew in breath as though he'd recently been underwater.
"We will talk later, and at length, but for now, you'll have to answer this man," Mordren said in a low, but commanding voice. His manipulating energy swelled, reaching down Silveredge's spine, then around the inside curves of her hips.
"Who are you, I said," Iordyn repeated, stepping toward Mordren. "I didn't ask-"
"Of course not, Officer," Mordren supplied, reaching out to rest a hand on Silveredge's right hip. "But this is an obvious delaying of training, and I won't stand for it."
"Training," Iordyn repeated with a leaden tone, watching the mage's wayward hand with clear suspicion in his face.
"She's a bit of a mage, you see, and is only playing at simplicity," Mordren smiled a little too nicely, looking up from Silveredge's hip to Iordyn's face. "Answer this man plainly, so that he may be on his way."
Iordyn sighed and looked past the Human and the Shadar-kai toward the courtyard for a brief moment. When Silveredge opened her eyes and lifted her gaze just slightly from the floor, he refocused his attention on her.
"The dark Elf and this Human are calling you 'Rasha.' Ser Unessmus called you Silveredge. Battlemage Ranclyffe gave something like 'Shiklihemre' when the guards finally got him to put anything to paper. Which of these is your name?"
Submit, Modren said in his mind as he pressed the tips of his fingers firmly into Silveredge's hip. In front of him.
"None, my lord," the Shadar-kai supplied in a quiet, but steady voice.
While her physical features were so well controlled that it seemed nothing had changed, Iordyn listened to Valeria whine plaintively outside. He suddenly wondered where Niku was, and what might be happening to him.
"Aleksei is wanted for murder in Urmlaspyr. The most- the first beloved, she's wanted for murder here. And you will be too, if you don't give up your proper name and where I know you know the first beloved is hiding." Iordyn broke eye contact again and looked at the floor off to his right for a few seconds before finding the tolerance to watch the mage move himself even closer behind Silveredge. The front of Mordren's upper body actually made light contact with the Shadar-kai's back.
And Mordren thought, Give in to me. I want you.
There was an entire daring minute during which Silveredge went completely quiet. Even Mordren's constant sense magic spell failed to give him any information- for the first time since he'd begun casting it toward her. Her body became ice cold and her eyes closed, but her spine remained ram-rod straight. The change in mental activity and body temperature was so jarring, however, that the Human mage briefly considered attempting to cast a detect life spell.
You do not care about me. You do not care about any of those who you work with- or even your wife- whether I tell anyone anywhere a lie or the truth is irrelevant to you. I know you. I see you.
The stilled mental voice, so small that it would have been less than a whisper had it actually been spoken, caught Mordren by surprise.
"Silveredge?" Iordyn asked with a trace of concern.
The Shadar-kai lifted her head just slightly, to indicate that she'd realized that someone had addressed her. Both Mordren and Iordyn were relieved, although Mordren did a better job of controlling visible signs.
"Tell me where Mi'ishaen is, Silveredge," Iordyn breathed, as though robbing his voice of tone would keep the green-eyed diviner behind Silveredge from hearing the words he spoke. "She's done- she helped me to do- a terrible thing. An innocent man is dead. Her life may be spared, like mine was, if she at least seemed repentant, but she's not. Not now- but maybe if you helped her to realize... she could get a second chance... If you love her, save her soul for her. If you love her at all, bring her to justice. Tell me where she is."
Silveredge decided not to focus on Iordyn's insistent pleading. Instead, she began to file through memories of Spikearm Commune and its denizens, allowing herself to sink deeply in the power that their mistreatment still held in her flesh and her soul.
"I thought you said Mi'ishaen was dead," Mordren interjected at once, tightening his grip around Silveredge's hip so suddenly that Iordyn jumped a little.
"The handmaiden hopes her lord will forgive her," Silveredge managed, finding it difficult to remain connected to the present world around her at all. On her wrist, the gal ralan sunk an extra half inch into her flesh, allowing the stone at its heart to surge with the color of her cobalt blood. Iordyn noticed the change at once.
"The officer may; I most certainly will not," Mordren ground, narrowing his eyes. "You stood right here and told me that miserable, destructive bitch was dead. Mind you, ser, this is the same wench that took out two of the chandeliers in here- surely you see that, above you?"
Iordyn took a brief second to look up and over to his right side, then returned his gaze to Silveredge. "So, is she alive or dead?"
"Tell me you did not lie to me when you told me that bitch was dead," the mage growled. Yet, as he did so, the power that had wound itself around Silveredge's spine was forced to retract from her pleasure center as though repelled.
"As my lord wishes, so it is," Silveredge replied, lowering her head back to its previous position.
Mordren pulled his hand away from Silveredge's side and crossed his arms. The sudden departure of his heat and pressure nearly brought an audible sigh of relief out of the Shadar-kai's lips.
"Swear to me, by your soul, that you did not lie," the mage demanded, his emerald eyes glittering with a highly focused energy that struck Iordyn as nearly manic.
"That's enough," the archer said sternly. "You don't know what she's-"
"No, you don't know," Mordren hissed, allowing his eyes to bore holes into the young man before him. "This is my trainee, my student. You are free to leave whenever you feel you are quite done wasting my time."
"I think I have all I can hope for," Iordyn sighed unhappily, turning his gaze away from the sight of Silveredge's bowed head. "If you get a free moment... and happen to be near the guards' tower..."
"My lord is kind," Silveredge said automatically as she sat all the way down so that the tops of her ankles were on the floor.
Iordyn knelt down, put his first knuckle under Silveredge's chin and tilted her head until their eyes met.
"I'm not your lord."
"You can kiss her too, Ser Raibeart," Mordren scoffed. "She won't contest your touch any more than she does mine."
"You know, slavery's not legal here," Iordyn challenged, getting up again.
"It seems you have perception and knowledge enough to have at some point noticed the ring in the back of her neck and realize what it means, but you should have also noted that I have no matching bauble," Mordren replied cordially. "Someone ought to be reminded of the illegality of slavery, but unfortunately for you, it isn't me. I assume you're done here, ser?"
"Yes; done," Iordyn huffed, disgusted. "Ria, c'mon."
The dog bolted through the still-open courtyard entrance at once, turning a few tight circles at Iordyn's side before noticing the Shadar-kai or the aloof Human mage at all. Without another word, the archer turned and walked out the front door, leaving Mordren and Silveredge alone.
"You're welcome," Mordren whispered with a coy half smile, reaching out to run a gentle caress across the Shadar-kai's right shoulder.
"My lord is kind," Silveredge repeated, not moving a single inch.
Mordren reached down and slipped his right thumb through Silveredge's piercing, convincing her to get to her feet with a small squeeze. As soon as she did, he stepped even closer to her, then slowly and carefully wrapped his arms around her.
"I would be more. Than just kind."
Silveredge's eyes bolted open wide as she felt Mordren nuzzle the left side of her neck first, then nibble at her ear. A warmth all her own sprung up from the inside of her thighs, and as it did, an idea flashed through her mind so briefly that the mage was unable to divine it. In a smooth, tender movement, the mage moved so that he stood in front of her, so close that if she would have looked up, their foreheads would have touched.
The Shadar-kai's spirit was silent, and she did not move.
Yet, Mordren was intrigued. As he checked for any magic she may have been using, he saw only the spectral, colorless forms of two large wings that folded all the way around her like a cloak.
Now that is different.
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