Chapter 12

Death! Death!

Deathshade’s caw drew Scimitar Darkblade from the back of his home on Denergar Rock, his hands rubbing against eyes, pushing grit and exhaustion from them.

“What is that you old ... buzzard...” Scimitar trailed off as he stood upon the balcony of his home and, with his eyes adjusting to the morning light, saw the unmistakable prows and sails of elf ships, their multi-hulled shapes cutting through the water like elegant blades, aimed right at the heart of what had been his home for the past few weeks.

Scimitar had not expected to find Denergar Rock quite so welcoming. When he had arrived with Melindan and Jewel, it had been barely escaping from the hold of a trolloc piratess and her not so tender mercies, and the first people he had met had been an extortionist gang of what could only be described as feral goblins. And yet, there had also been Tevin, the minorc, who had taken them under his broad (if metaphorical) wing and given them a place to stay until they had gotten their feet under them...

“Well, you could be a barmaid,” Tevin said, his rumbling voice rumbling and deep as he looked down and down and down at Melindan, who regarded the idea with an expression between temptation and irritation. Jewel shook her head as she stuck her nose into the various corners of Tevin’s hovel, sniffing slightly.

“Is this really your home?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

“Oh aye,” Tevin said, scratching at his broad jaw. “I never expected to have a place quite so nice.”

Jewel, who, for all her rustic origins, had been raised under loving parents and in a quaint little village, looked about herself in gathering exasperation. No, her affable father might have not been the strictest pech in the world, but he certainly would never have allowed his daughter to live in a hovel with junk strewn about the floor. The minorc, based on everything that Scimitar had seen in the short time he had known him, simply broke things by merely using them – and let their rubble be cast aside. It was not negligence, exactly, but rather the simple fact that he was living in a city and life that was not made for him. The scattered detritus were all the kind of items and articles of clothing that Scimitar could see being used by a human or elf, but in the massive palms of the impossibly strong minorc, they simply crumbled to pieces.

Jewel started to pick the items up, tossing them into a nearby bucket that was normally used to catch rainwater. “Well, we can at least clean this place up. Make it a bit more tidy.” She pursed her lips, and her voice dropped to a mutter that Tevin didn’t hear – but Scimitar did. “I never knew that being on an adventure would involve so much tidying up after men ... damn pirates!”

Scimitar could imagine just how odious her trip aboard Captain Marrowcrack’s ship had been for Jewel – his concerns had been for her mother and the obvious way she had kept her daughter safe, but it seemed that while Melindan had paid on her back, Jewel had paid on her hands and knees.

... er...

Not like that.

“You could become a dancer!” Tevin said, and Scimitar realized he was still trying to think of professions for Melindan to take up while on Denergar Rock.

“I would rather...” Melindan sighed. “I would rather just have a moment to catch my wits. The past few weeks have been nothing but disaster after disaster.”

“Well, you can head upstairs!” Tevin said, cheerfully.

“ ... upstairs?” Scimitar asked, his brow furrowing. The hovel that he stood in looked like one big chamber, a wooden house constructed beneath the overhanging stone ruin that made up a good chunk of the overall structure of the ramshackle pirate town that made up what could be called civilization on Denergar. Tevin walked to the back, where a hanging curtain was sprawled, and yanked it back to reveal stone steps that were carved in an ancient, intricate style. The artwork was geometric and precise, and it looked as if it had only been lightly weathered by time and tide.

“Up this way,” Tevin said. “I can’t fit on the stairs, and since I live here, no one has headed up.”

Scimitar frowned, then placed his hand on Melindan’s shoulder. “Wait here.” He said, then took the steps two at a time, his hand tightening as he manifested a deathlight blade in his hands. The stone stairs led into the very overhang that loomed above the minorc’s hovel – and he was rather shocked to find it was not solid stone, but rather a carved out living area. The smell of mildew and mold was heavy, and whatever wooden furniture that had been here was long rotted away. Vines hung from the ceiling – but he saw three chambers, a central one and two heading towards the edge of the overhang. It was sized about right for an elf, but he could see why Tevin, the massive brute, couldn’t have fit up here. He walked to one of the adjoining chambers and whistled as he saw that there was a clever kind of thin slit constructed in the overhang.

From outside, snarling and slightly cubist dragons were worked into the stone. But here, he could see through and past their bodies, the shadows of the sun hiding his eyes and his body, but allowing him to see out and for air to seep within. He could see the raucous pirates ambling along the streets, some of them jeering and shouting, and quite a few sleeping in gutters, as seemed to be their wont in the daylight hours. He stepped to the other chamber and found that this had one thing that had not rotted to nothingness: A large stone lever.

He threw it.

Scimitar took a moment to kick himself for the impulse, even as ancient machinery within the room groaned, creaked, and spluttered as something wet was splashed into. You idiot. You idiot! You’ve been in tomb delves before!

And yet, it was not a barrage of spikes or poison tipped darts that assailed him. Rather, it was the entire far wall of the room swinging down with a creaking clatter, and settling into place with a plume of dust and a crash of stone on stone. And now, the enclosed chamber was an open balcony, with extra room and a small stone railing at the edge. Pirates swung around at the noise, and quite a few goggled up at him.

Scimitar stepped to the railing, letting his manifested blade shimmer away into purple sparkles.

“ ... honestly?” he called over the railing, to Jewel and Melindan, who had come hurrying out the front. “Not half bad.”

“Oi!” A pirate called up at him. “Is that place open for business?”

“We’re not a bar!” Scimitar said.

“Yet!” Jewel exclaimed.

Melindan and Scimitar blinked down at her.

Then ... slowly, Melindan smiled.

“Yes, yet!” she said. “But soon, the Minorc’s Maze will be open for business!”

The pirates looked rather excited at that. And Scimitar, scratching the back of his neck, wondered precisely how much of this idea was going to be loaded onto him and Tevin. Tevin, for his part, seemed as placid and unassuming as ever – and seemed entirely unperturbed when he and Scimitar were dispatched to the dump. Rotting furniture and driftwood was gathered in heaping armfulls, and Scimitar found his remarkable talents put to an end he had never imagined.

“Well, if you can make a sword, you can make an awl right?” Melindan asked, smiling. “I’ve repaired some furniture, we can work on it, right?” Her green hand caressed his back as he glowered down at the pile of wood that he was meant to turn into a chair and a table. Scimitar opened his mouth, and then closed it. He sighed.

“If I were a high elf,” he said, his grin growing gentle. “You’d never hear the end of this.”

“Eh, that’s why I always liked you spidery types most,” Melindan said, then smiled at him – and that warm smile made Scimitar think thoughts he had not had in quite some time ... thoughts that were quite a bit easier to entertain, now that poor Frondon was dead. But then Jewel, who had been busy gathering fruits that might have been fermentable from near their cave-site landing spot, walked by and shot a curious look at the two of them, and guilt kept Scimitar from doing anything but smile back. Then he got to work.

The first chair was a disaster, as there deathlight burned quite hot and easily set wood aflame.

The second?

The second worked quite fine.

The third, fourth, and fifth followed shortly after, while Jewel experimented a little with her fruits. Soon, a dreadful concoction that knocked Tevin out cold after a single glass was brewed up in the makeshift still in the back – and while Jewel apologized profusely ... Melindan put up a cost in copper and silver. And shockingly quickly, the Minorc’s Maze was open for business ... and with Jewel serving as the barmaid, Melindan as brewer and manager, Tevin as brute labor, and Scimitar as bouncer, the quartet brought in their first take, invested in buying things – including some actual bottles – and the next take came headier and headier...