by William Simonitis
The warm autumn air hung heavily carrying the scent of heavily-perfumed bodies mixed with days’-old perspiration. A single fly, a black speck, lazily drifted onto Herdûm’s forearm as he stood waiting. He had been waiting near this intersection for almost an hour, with no sign that his one-time paramour would arrive anytime soon.
Meanwhile, the only thing preventing him from choking on the cloying smell and dust was the mask across his mouth and nose. Everyone wore a face mask these days and it had become quite common for the wealthy to even bejewel theirs.
Yleomi had sent him a message the day before, begging to meet him again. She wrote that she needed help tracking down someone who had just arrived in Umbaroth via the Great Portal. It was a Sprite, of all things, leading two Humans. And all three carried graysteel weapons, with one of the Humans wearing graysteel armor! And all three were apparently oblivious to the treasure they carried with them. In public.
The Sprite claimed to be searching for “adventure”. And in her letter, Yleomi indicated that she had a plan to bring an “adventure” to the Sprite and his friends.
Knowing Yleomi, that meant that the Sprite and its friends would be stripped of all valuables, including their precious graysteel, and left for dead in an alley.
Still, a Sprite in Umbaroth… that was certainly unexpected. Herdûm knew much of what happened within the red-clay walls of Umbaroth, yet he had heard nothing about a Sprite, especially one carrying graysteel. And Sprites were all but unknown in this corner of the world. And graysteel armor? That would be worth a year’s commissions. At least.
But now Yleomi wanted back in his life… to hunt down a Sprite, of all things. Perhaps this was all a ruse to wind him back into her arms; Herdûm would certainly not put it past her.
With a quick motion, the fly was soon smeared across the wall next to him. “Filthy things,” he muttered to himself, quietly casting one of the spells he had learned long ago to cleanse the stain from his shirt. His thoughts shifted to the fact that he had never liked the dirt and vermin that always seemed to hang in the air of Umbaroth. Leaving was not an option, however because he, like so many others, were trapped within its walls, safe from the depredations of the vile Duruk who prowled just beyond the gates.
Noting the blood on the wall, Herdûm knew that he was no stranger to killing things; it came remarkably easy to him. From even a young age, he had proven himself to have a talent for finding weaknesses and ruthlessly exploiting them. This skill had served him well as what some might call an assassin, perhaps even the greatest in all of Umbaroth. Not that Herdûm would dispute this; he was more content being unrecognized… and it made his work far easier.
Herdûm lifted his head back up to continue his watch, and almost immediately made eye contact with her from across the way. He remembered that she was beautiful, but seeing her again made his cold heart race. He had once longed to be near her after their breakup, and now his wish had come true. She only noticed him when he stepped out from the shadow of the alley.
“Herdûm!” she called out and quickly moved in his direction.
Yleomi moved with the grace he had remembered she possessed. He remembered all too well her warmth and the unexpected strength of her embrace. He knew in his heart that he would go where she led, if only to be near her again.
He welcomed her into his arms as they retreated backwards into the alley to plot the demise of the these unexpected visitors to Umbaroth.
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