The Dark Elf

Next Chapter (Arrynmar)

Lymerra still felt delightfully light with wine as she and Arrynmar walked out of the brothel and into the streets of Aeoria. He paused to suggest a place that they could go, but Lymerra had already started to walk off, eager to feel the night air on her hot skin.

"Ah, I suppose we could go for a walk then. Best make a quick detour out of these parts though, unless you want to see how many times you can brandish that knife in one evening." Arrynmar called as he followed Lymerra down the crowded street.

Lymerra felt free and reckless, and the wine dared her to see what this man could possibly want. Afterward, she would either fuck him and disappear into the night or silence him with her blade.

The two walked until the lights of the lower streets glowed yellow in the distance, and the full moon illuminated the silent part of the city in blue.

"Quite bold of you to choose to parade someone you've never met in the emptiest part of town. I hope you don't do this with everyone who comes calling your name." Arrynmar stopped walking, hoping she would respond in kind.

"No one comes calling my name," Lymerra said as she turned on her heel, her hair whipping back in the breeze. "This is why I have brought you all the way out here, where no one can hear your screams." She paused and a drunken smile spread across her lips. "Be they good or bad."

Arrynmar frowned at her words, and his eyes searched to hold hers. She allowed herself to look back, and in his gaze, she found nothing austere. He looked at her in a way that reminded Lymerra of Dia at first, and then suddenly, someone else.

"You are the man from my dream," she said plainly, cursing the wine for not letting her see it sooner. Arynmar's concern turned to relief.

"Yes! You remember. I was hoping that you would, being that was my first time succeeding at a spell of that manner. Though if I may say, not many would be able to master unconscious projection on their third try."

"Spell?" Lymerra thought. "A mage perhaps. My only mark of purpose had fallen right into my lap, stepped right out of my dreams."

"You must forgive me, Arrynmar, I –"

"Arryn, if you please. Formalities be abandoned."

"Arryn, then. You must forgive me. The last time a human male crawled out of the dark, just at the right moment, seeking me out, singing my name, it did not end well. For either of us."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sorry it took me so long to find you. But I am glad, so glad, that I was able to find without them. Though, it sounds like I was not the first one to find you."

"You were sent to fetch me as well? Which king do you serve? How much is your reward set to be?" Lymerra snapped, Lysander's betrayal burning hot in her mind. As soon as she allowed his presence back in her mind, and Dia's as well, her emotions burned under her skin, and with the alcohol, there was nothing to hold them back.

Her skin lit with wildfire, it glowed with prismatic color and lashed into the sky.

"My gods, Lymerra, you must put that wildfire away. I can see that you're not in control." Arryn's voice was tinged with anger and a little bit of fear.

"What do you know of my control? What do you know of the fire that burns with my skin as its fuel?" The ecstasy of letting herself go was ten times as glorious as the night air on her skin, and Lymerra did not try to regain her composure.

She burned hotter and hotter, her orange glow filling Arryn's eyes until he could suffer it no longer. He reached his hand out, and the wildfire obeyed. It left the kindling of Lymerra's body for the control of Arryn's. It settled in his palm, like a cat before a nap, and snuffed itself out to mere smoke in the night.

"I know much more than you may realize," Arryn offered.

The cold rushed in on Lymerra like a rouge tide, and she fell to her knees. She lifted her gaze to Arryn.

"You are a mage then," she said, breathlessly.

"A mage?' Arryn burst out, louder than he had intended. "Now I know your bosom buddy back at the whorehouse did me the disservice of a weak introduction, but I didn't realize just how weak. Clearly, you have not seen one who claims to be a mage perform their demonstration of magic."

Arryn paused to make a gentleman of himself and clear his throat.

"Allow me to reintroduce myself then, I am Arrynmar of Aeoria, Crowned Sorcerer to the Human Realm South of The Absterrites Mountains."

Lymerra's heart dropped into her stomach. The alcohol that only a moment ago made her feel free, now made her woozy. Her impossible journey had ended, and the holy fortune had fallen into her hands. Not a mage, but a Sorcerer. One of six, now seven, who remained on the continent.

Everything that she had set out to do was now back on her shoulders, she would now be called upon to face all that she had shoved to the back of her mind in recent days.

Arryn watched the Drow for a moment. He hadn't any idea of how he expected their meeting to go. He thought that there was the possibility she had already been invited into the court of another sorcerer, and thus spoken for. He thought she might be a ruthless killer, far gone into dark magic, a tool made by Drow beyond repair. Or perhaps she would even be jubilated by his arrival, she would his to make into an apprentice of sorts.

The Drow he had met, however, was a scared young woman, running from something that haunted her every move.

"Well, I thought maybe you would be a little bit more excited about it, but I do understand I am the least impressive of The Six. I'm sure if Ciphiar of Dunzaveria came swooping to your side he would illicit at least a smile. Perhaps a quick clap, nothing too raucous."

Lymerra looked at Arryn and cocked her head. The stress and the alcohol clouded her brain and she longed to lay down, far away.

"Arryn the Sorcerer who makes jokes, the folly of the human race, who lives by the mountains. I must excuse myself; I beg your trust to allow me to retire this evening. I swear to meet you at first light and you can tell me all about your plans for me."

"You think I have plans for you? Worry not then, for all I am looking for is your story. Of course, you may retire, Laymerra. But it would be remiss of me to allow any lady to stumble home drunk and alone in the dark. You must come with me to my house in the city."

Lymerra opened her mouth to protest but then made note of Arrynmar's clothing. His fine jacket was covered in delicate red and black floral embroidery. It bore gold buttons and filigree along the sleeves, with golden cord wrapped at all of the seems. His fingers flickered with jeweled rings. Any place that this Arrynmar of Aeoria lived, was something she had to see.

"Fine then, lead on."

Arryn smiled at her willingness to see reason.

"You shall have a warm bed, and all the privacy you need, my lady, I promise you. And I shall take the compliment of playing leader to a Drow with the highest honor."

Lymerra snorted. "Your lady, of highest honor, dragged sulking from a brothel, prone to vomiting in the streets. You can lead me to my death for all I care."

"And that, I shall never do," Arrynmar promised.