12 November 2010

I just couldn't help it, this is a part of the story I want to send to the publishers

I barely made it home, my body heavy and numb from the poison. I got stabbed few times and punched in some places I did not think would hurt this greatly. What can I say, I did not always like my job. Sometimes, most of the times I delivered easily with, in worst cases, a scratch or two. And then there were nights like these when it completely went wrong. I knew it would be a taught task but I must say I had some unexpected events. I fulfilled my task of course but I would need some time until I’d accept the next one.

I crawled up the stairs like a poisoned rat awaiting death. My maid spotted me on time and helped me to my chamber. My bed was just as I had left it in the morning. The fireplaces was asleep and the moonlight came through the window shinning over the wooden cupboard and wooden floor giving it a tint of dark river blue. My maid set up a fire as I lay in my bed and started on an herb mixtures following my instructions. She looked at me with those big round eyes and her chubby cheeks turned red. She did not say much but she knew me well.

I tried to sleep but the pain was too great. I looked around my room studying each corner of it. The entrance was on my right side and the bed was on the opposite side of the fireplace. On my left side I had a large window that revealed the beautiful houses of the city together with its narrowed and deserted streets.

Someone knocked at the door and came slowly in. It was my guest. He had hired the chamber next to mine and came and left this house as he pleased. He had come in my house a couple of days ago and this was the second time I encountered his presence.

‘You don’t look very good.’ He said with a low but pleasant tone of voice. He stood in the door opening, the firelight shining in his wolverine eyes. Few locks of his hair fell over his forehead. He wore dark grey clothes with a vest over a white shirt. He had all kinds of belts and leather stripes with all kinds of tools, some known, others I tired to figure out but could not quite identify. He wore black gloves and heavy black boots.

‘I’ve been better.’ I answered courageously. I noticed the blood spots along his arms and chest. ‘How about you?’

‘Just a flesh wound.’ He answered indifferent.

‘Come’ I said ‘sit down’. There was enough space in my bed for two. Not to mention that ‘my bed’ was nothing more than a pile of sheets and blankets put together. I often had trouble sleeping in beds, especially because I was so used to sleeping on grass and hard ground to support my aching back.

He sat down next to me and looked at the sheets slightly puzzled. ‘Do you often have an extra space in your…bed?’

‘I sometimes come home in the same shape you see me in tonight. Most of the time someone sleeps next to me to help me through the night, usually the maid or whoever can help me on that moment.’

‘And tonight?’

‘You’re the lucky one.’

He studied my wounds as if he was writing a poem about them. ‘What kind of work do you do?’ he asked suspiciously.

‘Just as simple as yours, beastslayer.’

He reacted with a smile. His smile turned in a grunt.

‘Let me help you.’ I said as I took his left arm and pulled his blooded sleeve up. It revealed a wound similar to a cut of a sword or a deep scratch. I had a small wooden cup on my left side containing the healing herbs. I was about to put a small amount on his wound.
‘This will sting a little.’ I warned him knowing it would burn like hell. I gently touched his skin with the burning herbs and did my best not to close my eyes. He did not move a bit.  

‘You must be used to a lot of pain.’ I concluded. He looked at me but said nothing.

‘Are you sure I can keep you company tonight?’ he asked after a moment of silence.

I nodded.

He took the sword off his back, put few other weapons and potions aside and took out his boots. I asked him to take his shirt off. He had nasty cuts all over his chest so I put some more herbs. He smiled at me than sat back in bed and starred at the ceiling. I stared out of the window. The full was in one of my favorite moods: yellow with a tint of grey in it.

‘We’re idiots aren’t we? Helping the world when we both know nothing good comes out of it.’
He did not answer. ‘When will we stop fighting other people’s wars?’

I looked at him as I still didn’t receive an answer. His face was turned to the right side. I leaned over to see his face. His eyes were closed. A smile shined upon my face. There I was philosophizing when all he wanted was some rest. The smile remained on my face as I turned around and stared once again at the melancholic moon.

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