so, I've started my fantastic fairy tale...finished the prologue a few days ago and trying to decide where I want to go from there....for your reading pleasure:
Prologue
Contrary to what
its name suggested, Ian Newer found the Haven…unsavory and not at all a place
he’d expect to find refuge. Despite
being located directly beside the river, grime surrounding the place, centuries
old dirt that caked the tables and windows.
The place boasted an assorted clientele that one wouldn’t find anywhere
else in the Midlands. Most derelicts
avoided the place altogether, preferring to wallow in seedy establishments of
repute that catered to fiddlings, those with no inclination or knowledge of
magic or otherworldly creatures of any kind, and those who didn’t mind rubbing elbows with
the sort—blending in to maintain the anonymity of the underworld. The Haven housed the practitioners of the
dark arts and other unsavory creatures who, because of their appearance, could
never blend in with fiddling society.
Ian was forced to
admit the desperation of his situation, as he stepped into the den of vice
surrounded by the odd horned demon and hairy troll. He imagined the Counsel would have words if
they knew what he was up to, they never approved of guardians mixing with
Lilith’s brood.
The place was
sparsely occupied and the few who were in attendance sat spread around the bar
and the few tables that could fit in the room.
Ian was shocked at the size of the place, from the outside, one
expected…more. There was just enough
room for the bar and five round tables that could seat four to five. The fire was burning bright in the fire place
making the room look as if it were set on fire and leaving Ian’s face flushed
from the heat.
He was just making
to remove his scarf when a voice to his left froze his hand, “We don’t want no
trouble in ‘ere, Guardian. Your kind
ain’t li’ly to be welcomed none.” The
barkeep spoke, the warning evident in his tone.
His skin was pukish-green and his ears were elongated. His long claws held a glass that he appeared
to have been scrubbing with an equally dirty cloth, if not for his guardian training, Ian would not
have been able to stomach his appearance, let alone the state of the
place.
“I assure you,
sir, I’m not here to start any trouble.
I have business that requires me be here. Otherwise, I assure you, I would not grace
the stoop with my presence.”
“Such bold talk
from a bairn who’s never left the safety of his keeper. Maybe I need to teach ya’ some manners.”
Ian didn’t expect
he would need to defend himself, in fact, when he made plans to meet here, both
parties agreed that weapons were to be left behind and he was to come alone. Did he make a mistake in trusting the other’s
sincerity?
Just before he had
a chance to reconsider his fool’s errand, a voice spoke up behind him. “Oh common, Buford, let the boy alone. It’s obvious he’s yearning for a taste of the
darker pleasure, surely you won’t begrudge him that?” His savior came in the form of a very pretty
witch surrounded by four of her most intimidating guards—all young men and all,
Ian had to admit, handsome. She was fair
complexion, almost pale, with flowing dark hair. Her smile was intoxicating, intended to
inspire trust and disarm unsuspecting mortals, but Ian knew the stories well
and resolved to keep a level head. At
least he planned to try. “What do you say? How about you leave the boy to me?”
The guard looked mesmerized,
her soft voice beckoning him to comply.
Was this why the Counsel forbad them to come anywhere near the river. “Of course, Minerva.” With that, the barkeep returned to his glass
and seemed to have forgot that Ian existed.
In all that time, not one of the 5 occupants of the bar looked up from
their glasses to signify that they noticed anything outlandish.
“Well, boy, are
you just going to stand there, or have you wasted my time by asking me
here?” Minerva. Ian’s reason for visiting the Haven. When he made the appointment with her, he
didn’t expect the most powerful witch in the area to be so beautiful, so
young. There were legends written about
her, and they all neglected to mention how hypnotizing she could be. Her guards stared blankly in front of them,
neither seeing nor missing anything, she stared at him expectantly; as if she
waited for him to do something…more—perhaps grow another head. “Well, guardian, I must admit I enjoy being
admired as much, if not more, than anyone else, however my curiosity will
cannot stand the wait. Why have you asked
me here? Unless I’ve missed new
developments, and I assure you I haven’t, guardians, especially young ones like
yourself, aren’t permitted to meet alone with those who have my particular penchant
for…the dark arts.” No embellishments,
just straight to the point. She didn’t
even try to understate here involvement with the dark arts.
Ian wasn’t
prepared for this. In his mind’s
eye, darkworlders were vile and
stupid. The creature before him was
anything but. “Well, I would like to
enlist your help.”
“I assumed that
much by your desire to meet immediately.
What, pray tell, can I help you with? Let me guess….it’s about a
girl?” The ease with which she seemed to
read him reminded Ian that his was not the best idea he’d ever had, yet, he
couldn’t leave without trying.
“Yes, well, it is
about a girl, but not just any girl. Rebekah…she’s…special—”
“Ah, young love.”
“Yes—no, it’s more
than that.” He paused to take a
fortifying breath before continuing. For
once, his haughty demeanor was failing him.
“This girl, her father is forcing her to marry. He’s using her as leverage to pay a debt he
owes. She shouldn’t be carted off and
forced to marry for her father’s sake, she should be allowed to choose who she
wants to marry.”
“And you think she
would choose to marry you?” Her words
held a trace of derision, barely detectable to the distraught Ian who had
gotten worked up over the retelling of his story. He took the statement less as a question and
more a declaration confirming what he already knew. “What exactly would you have me do? Unfortunately, your laws allow for your
daughters to be “carted off” as you stated.”
How many guardian girls were forced to marry every day, what made this
one special?
He looked in her
face trying to detect any hint of boredom or ridicule. Not finding any, he continued, “Well, yes, I
know, but I was hoping… Well, if you could give me a spell. Something that could make her father have a
change of mind or something. We’ve already
talked about it, and I know—”
“For never was a story of more woe, Than this of Juliet and
her Romeo.” This was spoken in a
near whisper, “How old are you, boy?
Seventeen? Is your girl willing
to wait until you are of age to marry?”
Damn the law, it stated that a boy must wait until his twenty-first
birthday before he was eligible for marriage.
“She’ll wait,
we’re in love.”
“Interesting how
many lovers claim the same.” Minerva looked
as innocent as a dove, but Ian knew a snake lay behind the façade. “I feel the need to remind you of the…stipulations
behind asking me for a favor, mortal child, I’d hate to have your Counsel after
me in the future.”
“I am more than willing
to pay your asking price.” He took out a
large pouch. It bulged from the gold filling
it. Ian waited as
Minerva’s laughter
startled the few occupants sitting at the bar.
“My, but you are eager…so innocent...so young” Her golden eyes shimmered for a moment, and Ian
thought he caught a glance of the predator he’d feared lurked behind the
beautiful face. “I don’t want your gold,
put it away.” Ian swallowed hard and
looked deep into the eyes of the witch. Just
as quickly, she grabbed Ian’s hand to shake it.
“I’ve decided, I’m going to help free your girl from her father’s grasps
and this arranged marriage. Make no
mistake though, the price of my help may be higher than you’re will to
pay. Are you still interested?”
Ian thought about
what Minerva was offering and saw the smile on Rebekah’s face. He wanted to preserve that smile, no matter
the cost and quickly agreed to all the terms.
“Good, I’ll collect later, and expect you to be ready,” With that, the she
and her entourage left the Haven leaving Ian to soak in what just
happened. The discomfort in his stomach
signaled that he may have just made the greatest mistake of his life.
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