Azrael

Fifteen

Roman strode forward confidently, with Lisa in tow. He seemed oblivious to all the attention right up until one of the onlookers, a vampire that had somehow gotten drunk, reached out and put a hand around Lisa's waist. Roman ground his boot so hard into the vampire's face that Lisa winced. There was no way his jaw wasn't broken after that. The rest of the crowd erupted into cheers though, returning to their own business afterwards as if nothing had happened.

Lisa joined Roman on a stool by the bar.

"What was that?"

"The only language everyone here understands," Roman replied as he signalled one of the passing sprites for a drink. They were delicate little creatures whose skin glittered as they moved, their translucent wings beating behind them at unnatural speeds. They left a short trail of 'sprite dust' from their wings, as it was called, which humans believed had 'special' properties. The only application of sprite dust Lisa knew was that it was a powerful hallucinogen. She wondered whether it affected the creatures around her as they dined. The excessive laughter and incoherent mumbling pointed towards that.

A violet-skinned sprite hovered before Lisa and Roman, leaving two glasses of a mysterious colourless liquid on the table. It swooped down once more and added something to Roman's drink which turned it a deep shade of crimson.

"Is that what I think it is?" Lisa asked.

"Nope." Roman took a sip of the stuff as he scanned the occupants of the bars. Her eyes lit up when they gazed into one corner. "There's our guy, in the corner to your right. Don't look."

Lisa took a sniff of her drink. It was either completely odourless, or she was too far used to her wolf nose that she couldn't use her human one at all. She gingerly put it down. "Who is this guy again?"

"He's a Mage," Roman said. Lisa noticed the vampire's eyes had taken on the slightest tinge of red. "The only Mage allowed in here."

Rule Two; No Mages allowed.

That was the one rule whose origin Lisa didn't know. Roman being the local tour guide he was, explained it quickly.

"Tusky's well, tusk," Roman began and then chuckled. His behaviour made Lisa glad she had not taken her drink, and she pushed it even farther away as he continued, "His tusk was broken by an explosion of magic. Their squad was ambushed by Mages in the middle of the night. Tusky was the only one awake. He took a blast to the face as he sounded the alarm for his team to get away."

The vampire drained her glass and went on. "For some reason one of the Mages, instead of pursuing the retreating team decided to turn back and save Tusky. A debt that heavy, a life debt, means the Mage gets free drinks for as long as he lives."

"Free drinks?"

"His choice, not mine."

When Lisa was just a rookie, the tale of how Tusky lost his tusk was one of the most interesting at the Jupyter Academy. There were no records, no rumours, nothing. It was not because it was a secret, but rather because no one had been alive to know.

"Roman, how do you know this?"

"I was there."

Before Lisa could bombard her friend with questions, they were interrupted by another arrival from behind the bar.

"Roman, how lovely to see you old friend," the orc boomed.

"Same here Tusky," Roman replied, raising his drink in greeting.

Lisa looked. No, she stared. One-half of the orc's face was charred, the skin there dead and lifeless. There was only a jagged piece of a tusk left on that side, and the eye above it was a milky white. Lisa guessed that since no fur would grow on the damaged side of his head the orc had cut it all off completely, which only contrasted the two sides greater. She averted her eyes when Tusky's one good eye turned to her, then back at Roman.