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One night had passed, and one day. Now, another dusk, another night crept upon the horizon and Cymbyliene dozed in a chair by her bed. Like a silent, invading force, dark dreams invaded her light sleep. She whimpered, unheard in the empty clinic. The memories flooded back to her, twisted in strange ways that only partially resembled her actual experiences.
Her body was trembling when the chiming of the clock alerted her to the time, waking her thankfully from the restless void. She stood on legs that felt weak as an infant's and descended the stairs to the kitchen, where she put a pot of water on for tea. The clinic was unnervingly quiet. She peered out the window into the darkness. The building was stifling, and she shut off the kettle, her idea of tea forgotten as she grabbed her cloak and made for the door, only to pause, seeing her reflection in the glass of the storefront. You look perfectly respectable, demure and like an absolutely helpless ninny......she muttered at herself under her breath. You might do as well to put on an Easter bonnet and a big sign that says "please attack me". She remembered the stories..the warnings about Stormpoint. A city you don't venture into after dark, they said. But she would. She must, or somehow stifle in the enclosure of silence and restless dreams. And so she ascended the stairs to dress somehow more appropriately, or at least more obscurely.
A brisk, impatient search of her closet turned up a woefully inadequate selection. With very few choices, she donned a pair of leather breeches she wore only for riding. They were a bit snug, but as long as she didn't need to climb any mountains, she would be fine. She found a blouse that really would have looked better with a nice skirt, but nothing else looked quite right. A waist-length jacket that would at least keep her warm, not to mention hiding the blouse. She chuckled to herself. Boots she usually wore in the country would have to do the trick for a walk in Stormpoint tonight. She took the pins from her hair and let it fall over her shoulders, around her face. Keeping it tidily pinned no longer made sense somehow. She opened the little drawer in her beside stand and withdrew a slender dagger, its silver no longer shiny, but weathered with age. She kept it because it was Papa's....she did not believe in weapons. Then again, she also did not believe she would like being victimized. No one would notice if she tucked it into her waistband below her jacket....and so she did. A quick inspection of her reflection satisfied her. She gathered up a small parcel of money and then lay it aside, taking only a modest amount. There would be nothing much to steal, she figured. Feeling rather clever and worldly, she hurried down the steps to the front door, tucking a clinic door key snugly in her pocket.
The clinic door closed behind her with a gratifying thud and a jingle of door chimes and she breathed deeply in, filling her lungs with the night. She smiled up into the sky, the moon's brightness piercing the cool crisp silence of evening. Her quick, quiet steps took her directly down the center of Merchant's Row, toward the center of town. She wanted to see everything! She wanted to see without being seen herself. Her step was light, her spirit free and happy. A small bit of movement in a shadow startled her, but a quick inspection displayed no one near.....she kept moving. She pretended not to notice she had wandered quite a bit and was approaching the docks. She started humming softly to herself to shut out the voice of wisdom that was telling her that absolutely nothing she was doing was intelligent in the slightest. Music spilled from a couple of buildings. The darker buildings with closed doors she gave a wide berth. She kept walking, simply enjoying the freedom of doing exactly the opposite of what wisdom would advise.
The smile melted from her face as she got away from the docks a bit and ended up..who knows how...in front of a place that she knew she secretly intended to find all along. "The Golden Web" proclaimed a sign for all passersby to read. She stood completely still, just looking at it. She shoved her hands deep in her pockets and took a deep breath. This was not the place for her. She didn't belong here. She knew it. And she went inside anyway. Just one drink Cymbyliene......have a drink and then leave.
With his feigned limp and the rotten rags he now wore over his normal clothing, Marcus moved into the alleyway across from the clinic. As he had done the last two nights, he was looking for a place to sleep in the discarded articles that cluttered the ground. The lost ranger had learned much in the small span of time since he had become one of the city's countless dispossessed. It was amazing what people discussed in front of a sleeping beggar. He had leaned that at least part of what the woman had told him was true--the Web was indeed guild aligned, and strongly so. Many were the nefarious conversations that went on in the shadows that clung to the building. But as loose as lips might be, Marcus still had gleaned little in the way of concrete information, and so his ruse would continue.
But now, it was late, and he had returned to the clinic for a few hours of honest rest, glad to be near Cym in at least some small way. Settling down in the cold dark alley that afforded a view of her door, Marcus' eyes began to close as he fell into slumber. It was only a short respite, however, ending when the sound of the clinic's doorbell drew his attention. ~~What in Hades is she up to?~~ Marcus wondered as he took in her attire and ill-maintained dagger that sat clearly alien on her waistband. Abandoning his resting place, he silently cursed under his breath as he followed the healer into the night-shrouded city. Gone was the limping movements of before as he kept to the darkness outside the glow of the street lanterns and followed after her.
For a moment, Cym paused and looked hard in his direction as if she had known he was there. Noting her gaze, Marcus pressed himself hard against the building, trying to disappear into the grain of the wood, and he held his breath as the moments painfully passed. Finally, the healer dismissed what she had thought she had seen, and continued on her way. Breathing again within the shadows, Marcus waited a minute more before again falling into step behind her. For the most part, she kept to the lighted and well-guarded areas, but Marcus became alarmed has she took a turn toward the docks. The Watch was still patrolled that area, but traveled in larger groups themselves with the result that only careless or foolish thieves could not easily avoid them whilst conducting their illegal actives.
Frowning, the Ranger closed the distance between them to where he felt comfortable that he could be by her side in a blink of the eye. He absent fumbled with the collapsed fighting staff hidden beneath his clothes, becoming now the guardian angel for his angel of mercy. The sound of the healer humming contentedly to herself, as one who seems unaware of her own danger, drifted on the wind as she took one random turn after another. Much to Marcus' relief, she avoided some of the more threatening buildings along her journey, until she paused in front of a particularly familiar sign and building. ~~THE GOLDEN WEB?!?!?!~~ Marcus could only stand in mute and shocked silence as she reached for the door.
Cymbyliene reached for the door, entering on an inhaled breath before she changed her mind. The door closed silently behind her and she lurked in the entryway a moment. The noise in the tavern came to a veritable halt as a few eyes darted her direction, and then a few more. The hairs rose on the back of her neck. Not knowing what else to do, she progressed on uncertain, unsteady feet to the bar, collapsing onto a stool more for support than any other reason. She took a couple of moments to peer around in the half-light in the room. It was warm, but somehow the room made her shiver a little bit. She thought the air felt somehow thick...with tension, perhaps, but she dismissed it as a silly fancy on her part. She wrinkled her nose slightly at the unfamiliar smells of alcohol and tobacco. There were people tucked in shadows around the place, everyone having returned to their own thoughts or conversations. No individual face was distinguishable in that kind of setting, and she stopped trying to look, realizing she was squinting. There was a strange variety of people in the tavern, from the looks of them, and she thought she probably would escape notice in the hodge-podge of humans. She gazed longingly at the warm glowing hearth in the corner, but it was surrounded by strangers and she didn't want to go over there alone. The deep rumble of male voices blended strangely with the earthy laughter of women who were scattered on laps at odd intervals around the tavern. No one was watching her....not that she could see; and so she turned her attention to the bartender. She waited for his assistance and realized she was being soundly ignored.
She cleared her throat softly, and got an annoyed look from the bartender, but got his attention, nonetheless. She attempted her most winning smile and gestured to the shelf of liquor behind him. "I'd like a drink...if you please. A glass of that amber colored liquid would be ....well, it would be fine." She paused and looked at him. "Please."
He leveled a gaze on her that made her feel two inches tall. "Oh, it would be fine, would it?"
She nodded mutely.
He shook his head in quiet irritation. "Scotch, it is." He thudded a glass of scotch down on the bar before her with a look that dared her to drink it. He then returned to his business without another thought or look for her.
Cym looked a little bit from side to side. A table in the corner caught her attention. The small group of men were all giving her a very odd, steady look and it unnerved her. She managed a half smile and a nod in their direction before turning to her glass, in order to appear busy. She brought the glass to her lips, taking a deep swallow. It felt like liquid fire in her throat! She coughed, choked, coughed some more and wiped her streaming eyes. Her cheeks flamed brightly at the laughter that came from the corner table, and she glared at her glass as though to reprimand the scotch. The laughter grew nearer and she turned to see a group of three men approaching her, none of which looked too pleasant or too clean, by her standards. She drew herself up minutely in her seat and tried to fix an impassive gaze on her face.
Only one of them spoke, while the rest of them looked on avidly. He smelled like the stuff she had just tried to drink as he grinned. "So.......you gonna finish that drink?"
She shrugged with a half smile. "Maybe...maybe not. Why? You want it?" She shoved it in his direction. He picked it up and finished it in a single gulp and put the glass down before her. She hoped he would go away.....to no avail.
She jumped as he reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. "That's a lotta red hair, missy.......real showy. A girl's gotta be sure she wants that kind of attention."
Cym's whole body was tense, but pulling away would only earn her a sore scalp. Still, her eyes flashed wildly at him. "If I had wished for your attention, I certainly would have let you know. Now let go, and I'll buy you another drink. Your friends too....." She prayed to every deity she could think of that he would let go. Instead, he tugged her closer by her hair. She cringed as she slid out of her seat to her feet.
He gave her a fierce look. "You're an awfully snooty sort......" He looked her over with a keen eye, and yanked her jacket open. "Oh, look! And she's got her little hidden blade too....a piece of insurance." He slid his hand down her side, a bit slower than she really thought necessary, and dragged the dagger out of her waistband, releasing her hair. She backed up a step, and considered flight, but the group of men were surrounding her. She looked around....no one seemed inclined to get too involved. Her hands were trembling terribly and she shoved them in her pockets, giving him an unconcerned look, smoothing back a piece of hair. Her heart was racing....she hoped he couldn't hear it.
She sat back down weakly, more out of desperation than anything. Her legs wouldn't hold her much longer. "So....do you pick on women quite often, or did you make a special exception in my case?" She looked at her dagger dangling casually in his hand.
He slapped it on the bar in front of her. "Only the ones that go where they don't belong. Don't come back again. That blade won't do you no good around here." He ambled off, much to her profound relief, taking his group with him. She melted into her chair. She thought that she should get up and leave, but doubted her legs would take her. But she disagreed about the dagger......that was precisely what she needed in a place like this, except that she needed to actually use it. It would be wiser just to get out. But she was still curious....where did that staircase in the back of the tavern lead?
After a few bracing breaths, Cym put some money on the bar for her drink. She glanced around and saw that everyone was back to their own business again. She stood as quietly as she could and edged toward the back wall and the stairs. She prepared her strategy, silently. Just wander up those stairs and take a peek around. If anyone asks, you're looking for the ladies' room. She clutched her jacket to her body and climbed the steps as quickly as she could. Her heart hammered in her ears, but she didn't hear anyone yell at her, so she kept moving. She alighted at the top and peered around. A dusty floor....several rooms with doors open, some shut.....she edged her way down the hall.
From the corner of her eye, she saw a group of men in one room, speaking in low tones. There were papers on a table in front of them; one man was pointing to something and speaking when he uttered a small exclamation of surprise when she passed and slammed the door. She jumped at the banging sound and kept moving. There were sounds behind closed doors. She tried to ignore them and moved forward until she found a woman, sitting alone in a room. She was stretched out in a chair with a lit cigarette. Cym poked her head into the room briefly. "Pardon me, Miss.....but I seem to be a little lost."
The woman looked up at her with raised brows, apparently surprised at the statement. "Lost, are you? Who're you? The new girl?" She stood and looked Cym over matter of factly. "You need something else to wear......" She stood and opened a closet door, rifling its contents. "If you're going to work around here, you're going to need to blend in a bit more. You could probably start serving drinks. What's your name?"
Cym opened her mouth and closed it a second, unsure what to say. "I'm um...I'm not a new employee....I'm looking for someone. I thought perhaps I may find him here."
The woman squinted at her a moment. "Honey, everybody's looking for somebody around here....now run along. You don't belong up here."
Cym crossed her arms over her chest stubbornly. "What sort of a place is this, anyhow? People say it's "guild connected". What does that men? I mean, being new and all......I'm not sure. Is it some sort of crime thing, then?"
The woman's eyes got very wide and she dragged Cym into the room, slamming the door behind her. "What's the matter with you? What kind of problems are you trying to cause? Get out of here! Go...out the door, down the stairs to your left. It'll go to the alleyway. I can't talk to you anymore......" She shoved Cym toward the door, reaching for the knob.
Cymbyliene rounded on her for one last attempt. "There was a woman that I took care of...she was hurt. I think she may have worked here and I want to be sure she's alright. Her name was Lynn.....do you know her?"
The woman shook her head avidly. "I don't know nothing about no woman being hurt. I don't know a Lynn and I don't want to talk to you anymore. Now go on....get on out of here." She opened the door with a flourish and shoved Cym out into the hallway with no small force. Cymbyliene stumbled a little and righted herself straightening her hair.
Turning to look for the aforementioned stairs to the alley, she saw instead that wretched man from downstairs and his cohorts....quite a few more of them than before. They stood between her and the stairs to the main tavern room. She figured the door a few feet down the hall behind her must be the door she was looking for. She nodded to them politely and turned on her heel toward the door and her imminent freedom, praying fervently that the five or six of them would just go about their business. When would she learn?
Quick footsteps and an iron grip on her shoulder stopped her retreat and drew a small cry of surprise from her. She was spun, rather ungracefully, to face the man who had taken her dagger earlier. He looked at her keenly. "I'm pretty sure I told you to get out of here. And now, I find you upstairs poking your uppity head into places you don't belong." He took her by two shoulders and shoved her up against the wall, hard enough to bring stars to her eyes when her head hit the surface with a sound thud. She blinked repeatedly to clear her vision.
She struggled against him, hard, despite the fact that she knew she was outnumbered greatly and outmatched even with this one man. She growled at him, "Get your hands off me, I'm warning you....."
Her bravado earned her a cuff to the mouth. Her lip was split...she could feel the warm blood on her chin, and tears filled her eyes with the stinging. She held very still then, to avoid any more blows, and she tried to think. Her thoughts were interrupted by a great rumbling of male voices; the other men who had come with her assailant.
"Don't beat her up too bad. She's sort of a pretty thing....I bet she needs some new friends, eh?" Said one of the men with a chortle. She glared at him a moment and then cast her eyes down modestly, which was more to hide her fear than anything.
She took a trembling breath and looked up into the eyes of the man who held her against the wall. "Well....." she uttered shakily, "I am new in town."
He smiled at her; a cruel smile. "Welcome to Stormpoint....." he said, and wrapped a hand in her hair, twisting it hard to bring her face up to his for a cruel, hurtful kiss. Her lip throbbed where he hit her, and she cringed, but held still, relaxing her body to fit the shape of his, becoming pliant and soft. He made a small sound of surprise in his throat, and released her hair and her shoulder to peel her jacket from her, dropping it on the floor at his feet. She stifled back a sob as he moved both hands to the front of her blouse, working at the buttons. She slid her arms softly around his waist. His hands are busy, Cym.... With an inhaled
breath and the strength of nothing but sheer terror, she raised her knee and yanked him by the waist, forward, his abdomen coming up hard against an upraised limb. The breath escaped him with a whooshing sound, and she was off, running down the hall with the pack of them behind her, shouting and cursing at her. If they catch me, I am a dead woman.... and that fear led her on, crashing through the door, leaping down sets of stairs as many as she could manage at a time. The wretched stairs seemed to go on forever and ever and ever, until finally with a shriek of pure terror, she burst from the main floor doorway into the dark alley and ran like a madwoman, with no sense of direction whatsoever, away from the group of murderously angry men behind her.
Much to Marcus' relief, the healer avoided some of the more threatening buildings along her journey, until she paused in front of a particularly familiar sign and building. ~~THE GOLDEN WEB?!?!?!~~ Marcus could only stand in mute and shocked silence as she reached for the door.
The ranger stood there for a moment after the door closed behind the healer before he reassumed his beggar guise and awkwardly shuffled across the road. Marcus was singly convinced the Cym had lost whatever good sense she had along with her marbles. What could have possessed her to enter a den of cutthroats, smugglers and thieves like the Golden Web? Marcus knew the answer even as he silently asked the question, and a sudden pang of guilt swept through him. Unfortunately, charging in after her would help little, and might well serve to dig them far a deeper hole.
Marcus carefully placed himself next to the tavern's dust-encrusted window where he could watch her unnoticed from the corner of his eye as he absently held out a hand to passersby. He barely noticed the few coins that found their way into his hand as he watched the healer order a drink and rest against the bar. ~~That's it, my girl, one drink and get out of there. No place for you to be. ~~ he thought as she brought the glass to her lips then coughed, and choked on the strong drink she had been served. His blood near boiled and it took all his will power to remain in place when the knuckle-dragging troglodyte loomed over her in a clear threat, but she still enjoyed the relative protection of the tavern's main open floor. Marcus took careful note of the large man's features as he took the healer's dagger and moved back to his friends, laughing openly at her helplessness. Marcus would 'speak privately' with him later about his lack of manners and 'gently' recover the healer's dagger.
Marcus almost fell off the wall when the healer, against all sane thought, did not walk out the front door, but instead worked her way to the stairway that led up to the second floor and its carefully guarded secrets. The Ranger rose from the wall, intent on slipping round to the rear entrance and dragging the gentle healer out of this den of thieves before anything could happen to her. He wanted to run but could ill afford the attention nor the inevitable questions that would follow from the watch patrol that made its way up from the wharf. At a painfully, nonchalant pace he made his way around of the side of the building and out of sight of the watch. Marcus broke in to a run, colliding right into another person coming the other way.
Marcus' heart leapt as he saw Cym's features in the dim light, the object of his search struggling in his arms.
"Let me go!" Cym cried, pushing away from him, but Marcus held her firm.
Marcus allowed the cloak hood to fall away from him so she could see his face. "Cym its me!"
Cym looked as if she doubted what her own eyes saw, or that he might disappear in next second. "Ah....M...Marcus?"
Marcus looked down into her tear filled eyes. "Its all right now, I am here."
The terror showed in her eyes as Cym pulled at his arm to leave the alley. "If they catch me, they'll kill me." Her trembling grip tightened when another voice quietly echoed in the alley.
"Well, well. What have we here? Quite a pertty picture, ain't it mates?"
The rude laughter of the men grated Marcus' nerves as he moved the frightened healer behind him. Unseen by their assailants, Marcus palmed his staff, ready for what was to come. There were eight men hidden in the shadows along the with speaker. Not good odds, but that was what their kind fed on, the weak and out numbered. Marcus smirked. Perhaps he could show them that they had bitten off more than they could chew, or more importantly, hold them long enough for Cym to escape.
Once again the thug's brutish voice broke the silence. "Now, now, if he ain't the hero!" More laughter. "Why don't you just hand her over, and make like you never saw a thing? You'll live longer."
A silent determined nod was all the answer Marcus gave them. Silently he whispered back to Cym as he took the measure of each man, "When it starts, run. Run as fast as you can, and don't look back." He wanted to steal a quick glance at her, but could not risk taking his eyes from the rabid predators that spread out in front of him. Silent tension held sway for painful seconds until with a snarl one rushed at the pair. Marcus stepped into his charge, opening his staff striking him in the gut. The force took the attacker off his feet, sending him crashing into a stack of crates. As they collapsed, the crates momentarily shielded Marcus' right and he swung the staff back around in a half circle and caught the brute who had spoken across the jaw, dropping him instantly. The swing forced the others that were coming at him to stagger backward lest they suffer the same.
Marcus brought the staff back into his body, and set himself to face the next attacker when a female voice forcefully cut through the darkness. "Halt, in the name of the High Justice!!"
The watch patrol Marcus had noted earlier was now charging down the alley. There were three humans and a large orc wearing the red and black heraldry of Ogrek, but what caught Marcus' attention was the woman standing calmly behind the guardsmen. Her black and silver Ranger's uniform touched a cord of familiarity within him even as she drew back on the
bow in her hands. In quick succession she fired blunt tipped arrows at the fleeing thieves. The whish of the arrows passed him and the grunts of those felled by them broke Marcus' trance. He turned to run himself when he saw Cym still huddled there, an almost fatal pause, as an arrow crashed to the ground next to him. He blinked. By all rights, it should have struck home, but it didn't. Casting about as the source of this aid he caught a brief glimpse of a cloaked figure disappearing into the shadows of the builds across the way. ~~Mage~~ The thought raced in his mind like a curse. But, he had no time to ponder the spellcaster's motives, and not wanting to waste such good fortune, Marcus caught Cym's arm. "Please, I cannot be caught.....not now. We must leave."
The next few moments were a blur.....there were men shouting, arrows flying, and some woman in a uniform....she barely understood it all in her wonder. Perhaps it was sort of civil enforcement group...she did not know or care. The first thing that pierced her haze of confusion was the voice of Marcus. He reached out for her. "Please, I cannot be caught....not now. We must leave."
She took his hand like a lifeline, ready to follow him wherever he asked. They ran into the night. He lead her away from the watch into the darkness, pausing, to her surprise, over the fallen form of the man who had accosted her in that horrible place. From him, Marcus snatched her dagger and held it out to her. "This belongs to you, I believe."
She took it and looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Thank you Marcus....thank you so much." She hoped he knew that she was thanking him for more than just the dagger. She clutched it to her as he pulled her away into the looming darkness. Buildings wreathed in shadow fled past them so quickly she hadn't time to see where they were headed. All she knew was that he was with her, and that she trusted him.
She felt horrible and thought that he must be angry with her, for she had followed him as his note had asked her not to do. She was angry with herself; enough for both of them. As they ran, unseen, through the city, he drew them to a slow stop in a dark alleyway. She looked up at him with mournful eyes. "I'm sorry...so sorry, Marcus. I didn't mean to follow you....not really."
His eyes, surveying the darkness, returned to hers. "That's all right.....all that matters is that you are safe." He kissed her quickly before leading them again into the dark passages.
Her heart soared with the redemption, as she brought her free hand to her lips softly. Her heart and body warmed with affection for him as she followed him blindly, holding his hand without thought for what would happen, or where they would go. All of her guilt slid away, and she was amazed to realize that she couldn't picture what she would do if he helped her home and then left again, into the night. She couldn't bear the thought, and tried to compose a billion reasons to ask him to stay, even as her heart sank with the realization that he probably would not do so. She stopped with a small cry of surprise when she recognized the building in front of them. "The clinic?" she said, between breaths, "I didn't realize we had come so far....."
(Edited from character interaction))
Now in front of the clinic, Cym opened the door, startled by the sound of the chimes. She turned to him, holding out a hand in entreaty. "Marcus....will you come inside?"
He hesitated a second before taking her hand and walking inside. He looked away and down from her. "Cym.....I am sorry about what happened back there. I never should have......" he paused and looked up at her for a second, then away again, "you know."
She closed the door bolting it behind them and looked at him. Her apology came out in a rush of words. "No...I'm sorry. I endangered you back there and I did not obey you.....I should not have gone to seek you." She looked down at her hands. "I hope you can forgive me." She had a sudden thought and a soft smile. "But, as far as....I mean..your kiss." She fiddled with something on the table beside her. "I am not sorry you did so...." She turned up the lamp slightly, filling the room with a warm glow.
Marcus spoke quietly. "It was not your fault. I should not have left like that. It was very brave of you to follow." He still did not look directly at her. "How did you know about the Web?"
She thought about her answer a moment, dreading to say it. "I..I overhead the woman tell you. I heard her say that she saw you there, once."
He paused. "I didn't....I would not have hurt her. I just had to know." He turned away from her, sick inside that she knew what occured within that room.
She walked to him carefully, and took his hands in her own. "I never believed you would hurt her. I have seen...I mean..I have looked in your eyes. I never feared you, from the beginning."
He looked down at their hands together, then up into her eyes, as though searching for something. She met his gaze quietly, her hands trembling slightly in his grip. "I don't know how you came to be here.....or what you did or do in life...but I find that it doesn't matter much to me." She let out a small tremulous sigh.
He swept her into his arms, holding her close and whispering, "Thank you."
She clung to him softly, her heart racing with the feeling of being held so near. "You must think I'm a terrible physician, Marcus. We are supposed to have a certain distance from those we treat." She buried her face in his chest. "It's just that I don't think I could bear it if you walk away and I never see you again."
He cradled her close. "I won't leave again. We will find my answers together."
She looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "Truly?"
He traced the line of her chin with his hand. "You have my word."
She stood on her toes to brush her lips across his with a feather light touch. He leaned forward, capturing her mouth in a full kiss. After a few wordless moments passed between the two, he pulled away gently.
She murmured softly. "I have a fire upstairs...will you come? It's chilly down here."
He smiled, still holding her hand. "A fire would be nice. I do have a question though. That woman in the black and silver uniform tonight...do you know what she is?"
Cym looked uncertain. "No one has ever said for certain, but rumors say that those people are a special force of some kind....law enforcement of sorts. I think they called them Rangers, but no one will tell me what they do, exactly."
Marcus rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "There was something about the uniform...I can not quite place it."
She thought a moment. "Well, you must know someone who works in that group. A friend maybe." She considered quietly the full list of possibilities. Marcus was either a friend of rangers, or a foe. "Well.....It must be lingering in your memory for some reason."
He chuckled a bit. "Who knows. I might be one of those Rangers."
She smiled and examined him. "I think you must be a fine one, if you are." She pulled him toward the stairs gently. "Do you still have your staff weapon?"
He followed her, flipping the collapsed staff into the air and catching it easily. "Right here."
She climbed the stairs. "I think you must have that weapon and the knowledge to use it for a reason. You must be a warrior of some kind."
He nodded. "I was in a war before coming here. I don't know how it ended."
She looked at him sadly. "That's awful." She rounded the top of the steps and went to place a hand on a panel in the wall of her room. "Do you remember when I took you to the roof?"
He squeezed her hand. "Vividly."
She nodded with a soft smile. "Good.....On the roof in the far corner is a small iron ladder...like a fire escape. It goes down to the alleyway behind Merchant's Row. If you ever need to come and go from here without being seen, you can use that....."
He smiled. "So I can come and go without bringing any problem down on you."
She nodded, pulling the panel shut. "And then you can come to me....and not lurk outside for fear of harm coming to me." She went to stand near him.
He wrapped his arms around her. "I would not know what to do if anything should happen to you as well." A brief flash of old pain traveled across his eyes.
She saw the pain, but allowed him the privacy of his memories. "Nothing will, with you near." She slid her arms around his waist. "Are you hungry, or just tired?"
He nuzzled her hair softly. "Tired."
"Your room is still there for you..." she said, suddenly shy. "But if you would like.....you could stay with me instead." Her cheeks were flaming and she hid her face in an embrace. "It would keep the nightmares at bay."
He ran his fingers through her hair. "Perhaps it is time for the nightmares to end."
The first rays of sun crept past the curtains of Cymbyliene's room and fell upon her eyelids, bringing them open. She was instantly aware of the other presence beside her; so unaccustomed and unusual to her. She looked over with fierce tenderness at the man whose life had been in her hands, and then, in return had saved her own. He slept sound as a child, and she allowed herself the luxury of touching him softly....a privilege she had never dared when he had been her patient, broken and vulnerable in the world.
"Marcus....." she whispered, trying his name out again. For so long, he had been nameless to her, but still a spirit that had lodged in her heart, unexpectedly. She rose quietly, careful not to wake him, and went to her closet for a gown. Something practical......she would take Marcus to Eowyn's shoppe today. Eowyn.....she was a watcher, and Cym was almost certain that she would know something about Marcus' situation, or at least how to find out.
She looked at him again, with a smile, as she tied the sash at her waist. Bending to kiss him softly, she whispered, "Good morning......"
They were up and dressed, and Cymbyliene turned the key in the lock of the clinic as she and Marcus stepped out into the street. He had agreed to go to ask Eowyn if she knew anything about his history, but Cym could feel the trepidation in him. She felt it herself. For all that she knew his name now, she knew nothing else about him. The world seemed perfect as it was, and with the Marcus who had stayed with her the night before, the world was beautiful. Who knew what the world would feel like with full knowledge of what had happened to him? She could see on his face the anxiety, and knew that he was as concerned as she. Neither of them spoke about it, and simply held hands lovingly and silently as they walked along Merchant's Row in the early morning light.
Many of the stores were still closed, but delicious, warm scents came from the bakery, and Cym smiled as she tugged Marcus toward the door. "Let's have some breakfast, dear one......" and she opened the door to the rich smells of bread, pastries and hot coffee. They sat down to their breakfast; sweet roll and honeyed tea for him, croissant and coffee for her. She blushed softly and looked down at her pastry, thinking of the night they had passed.
"This is our first breakfast together." She looked up at him with her heart in her eyes and leaned over the table to kiss him softly. His warm grip around her own hand was reassuring as they ate their meal and conversed about everything except what was heaviest on their minds.
With satisfied appetites, they stepped back onto the street and turned toward the Kuriosity Shoppe. Just as it came into sight, Marcus squeezed her hand lovingly.
"Cym?" he asked tenatively. "It might be nice if we just did some shopping for a little bit, don't you think?" His eyes were pleading and her heart melted.
She nodded. "Yes...yes, of course. I do need a few things. And you could use some more clothing." She felt as much relief as he did, and she could see it in his eyes. She clung to him almost desperately and turned away from Eowyn's Shoppe resolutely. "We can take care of other things later." With a sigh of relief, they walked into the nearest clothier and shut the door snugly behind them, as if to keep the world at bay just a bit longer.
"Cym?" he asked tentatively. "It might be nice if we just did some shopping for a little bit, don't you think?" His eyes were pleading and her heart melted.
She nodded. "Yes...yes, of course. I do need a few things. And you could use some more clothing." She felt as much relieved as he did, and she could see it in his eyes. She clung to him almost desperately and turned away from Eowyn's Shoppe resolutely. "We can take care of other things later." With a sigh of relief, they walked into the nearest clothier and shut the door snugly behind them, as if to keep the world at bay just a bit longer.
His thoughts carefully hidden behind his hazel eyes, Marcus watched as Cymbyliene moved to the clothier's counter, and rang the tiny bell to summon the shop's owner. The weather-beaten sign outside proclaimed the store's name to be 'Gossamer Dreams'. While waiting Marcus glanced around the huge front room. It was filled with countless fitting dummies of various sizes and shapes. Many with half completed projects on their wire frames. All along the walls hung tunics, shirts, pants, leggings, gowns, blouses, skirts, and dresses. Ready only needing a few alterations here and there, and someone to wear them. Marcus had began to wonder off, a splash of white catching his eye when the warm welcoming voice of the shop's owner broke the silence. He paused and glanced back over to see the two women talking quietly, he took a step closer trying to catch what was being said. Suddenly struck with a real sense of worry when the seamstress nodded, and both women looked at him with what Marcus could swear was an evil glint.
Marcus would discover his fears were well founded over the next hour. Forced to hold one uncomfortable pose after another as Corenna, the seamstress attacked him with an army of strings and measures. His quiet patience was rewarded at the end though, when Cymbyliene took his hand and kissed his cheek. He smiled softly down at Cymbyliene as Corenna gently tugged the healer away to, in her words, "Find him some fitting clothes. Why the way he isdressed now one would think he was one of the homeless."
He could not argue with her as he looked down at himself, indeed he was dressed like one of the city's dispossessed. Until last night he was moving among the shadows trying to find a clue to who or what he was, trying to find answers to questions he did know existed.
He could not argue with her as he looked down at himself, indeed he was dressed like one of the city's dispossessed. Until last night he was moving among the shadows trying to find a clue to who or what he was, trying to find answers to questions he did not know existed.
~~Who am I? ~~ The question hug around him like a cloud. It was always with him like the summer storms from which the city drew its name. He knew who he was, a blacksmith's son, soon to be a husband, a simple man. Until that night long ago when life ended in blood and fire. Again the memories flashed across his mind's eye like they were yesterday... His fight, his last fight with his brother ... his sister, mother, and beloved Kaylana... screaming as the flames consumed them..... his father and everyone he knew...gone to the undead's swords and claws..... only he survived. ~~Why?~~ Always with the memories that question came. ~~Of all people why did I live? ~~~ With a soft sigh he glanced ay Cymbyliene finding a small bit of that answer, but not all of it.
~~Who am I? Why was I beaten within an inch of my life? Why was I dumped at her door? Who brought me there? why did I have a Ravenclaws' emblem on me? Is it mine, or did I pull it from my attacker? Where did that woman know me from? And, why was she so afraid? What place did the Web play in all of it? And why did that woman with the watch, in the silver and black uniform, the 'Ranger' strike him so? ~~ The questions hounded him again and again as they have for weeks now. The only only time he felt free of them was during the very few hour's he spent in Cym's arms last night, holding the world at bay.
They had chased him, barely healed into the night to seek their answers in the city's darkest corners. But how does one catch a shadow hidden among shadows. He had lived for weeks on the street, his ear to every rumor that floated past him, but nothing ever lead to his answers. And worse of it, Cymbyliene had followed after him, walking into a preverbal nest of vipers. She only wanted to help, and she almost paid for it with her life....or worse that the hands of those men. But, this time Marcus had been on time, he had stopped the men and saved her. It was not until that moment when he was so close to losing the gentle healer that had saved his life, in more ways than one it seems. Not until that moment when they fled through the dark alleyways, when he stopped and kissed her, did he know he loved her.
She watched Marcus with quiet eyes, nodding now and then at the shopkeeper's recommendations. Some trousers, some new shirts and a nice vest, a jacket, and various other clothing items....she looked at each of them, deciding what would bring to light the color of his hair or eyes. Men never cared about those details.
She was startled a moment at the proprietary way in which she was considering him. She had no reason to do so.....well, except the night previous. Every moment and action that night had contained her whole heart. She wondered how her life had found this road, and then she remembered and was glad.
But oh, the look in his eyes! That darkness over his heart.....she would give any piece of herself to make that go away, and she knew she could not. The healer in her was angry. She could save him from the last snatching grip of death, but this uncertainty? The questions and emptiness inside him....that, no skill, nor healing touch, nor herbal mixture could take away. She mourned for that fact. But she would do what she could. At the very least, she could stand beside him.
Stars above.....how she loved him! When had that happened? Maybe she realized it more fully when he had left her that day in the clinic, leaving only a note telling her not to follow. It was as good that he should tell the sun not to rise. She remembered their night together. How tender, how innocent....how sweet he had been. Her cheeks colored softly to think about it. And with sun's rising, she had considered never waking again, so that no moment would ever have to compete with the feeling of being held tight and safe in the dark hours of night. His eyes glowed softly in the early daylight. How adorable he was, absolutely beside himself in an apparrel store. She covered her mouth with a gloved hand to stifle a giggle.
You think everything he does is adorable, girl......her inner voice commented, with a very unladylike snort. But that night he hauled you out of the murderous grip of some very unpleasant fellows....that night he wasn't adorable. He was so.....so.....
"Breathtaking." She said aloud, not thinking.
The shopkeeper looked at her. "Do you think so, dear? Because I really agree that it would look very nice on him."
Cym blinked twice, thought back to what she had said and then nodded briskly. "Oh, yes! Absolutely.......I absolutely agree." Pay attention, you ninny.....she reminded herself, dragging her eyes away from the object of her worship. "Now, as for the jackets....he will require most that will be appropriate for rugged use. He is an active sort." She looked at him and sighed softly, adding to herself, I think........she fidgeted with
her little reticule, handing the proprietress some money to get the work started. The Kuriosity Shoppe was just down the way. She bit her bottom lip gently, and brushed aside a strand of hair from her brow, raising her chin. It would be time to go soon.
That flash of white caught Marcus' attention again as he slipped away from the two women. Allowing his thoughts to wonder away from their brooding, he moved through female fitting dummies. Each wore bejeweled gowns and elegant dresses for the city's well-to-do ladies and noblewomen. Royal blues, dark purples, vivid reds, and perfect blacks surrounded him like a masquerade, but it was just a glimpse of that white that drew him onward. Stepping around the last gown, Marcus caught his breath as he found the source of the white flash. There, bathed in sunlight streaming through the window was the most beautiful wedding gown he had ever seen--the purest white, as if woven from winter's first snow, antique beadwork that shone in the morning light, and lace that would have turned Arache green with envy. As his hand reached out to feel the silken fabric Marcus froze, for the dress seemed to fill itself on the wire frame. It was as if a body and not the dummy now wore the dress. Astonished at the transformation, he watched as a new form faded into view before his eyes. Raven hair framed a round soft face, and dark brown eyes took in the breadth of the shop before falling on Marcus.
"Kaylana....." Marcus' voice was a soft whisper as he instantly recognized her, his heart pounding in his chest. He could make out the walls and hanging garments through her ghostly image. Standing before Marcus in the dress she would never wear for him was his first love. The look upon her face was one of utmost sadness. Then, slowly a soft smile came to her face as she saw the man he had become, so different, yet still Marcus, her betrothed. She knew know what he did not--that his path had come full circle and it was time for him to move beyond the past. He had to lose himself only to find what he thought he had lost, or at least did not deserve, a chance for happiness. Kaylana's vision had come now to give him something he had never been able to give himself--forgiveness for having survived.
"Kaylana, I am sor...." There was so much Marcus wanted to say to her, but she silenced him with a gesture. She already knew all he wanted to say and much more as she pointed behind him.
Marcus turned to follow where she was pointing, the two women standing across the shop talking, completely unaware. Nodding softly, he looked back to the ghost. "Her name is Cymbyliene, a healer, she saved my life, and I......" he paused taking a deep breath. ".... and I love her."
A slight pained look crossed her face, but it departed quickly, like a cloud passing briefly across the sun, and Kaylana gave him a wide smile. A chill ran through him as her hand rested over his heart, as if the northern winds had entered the shop. Silence passed between them, an understanding without words. Then she drew his attention again, taking his hand and pointing outside the store.
Just down the road Marcus saw the wooden hanging over an innocent looking shop. "The Kuriousity Shoppe....." He read the words, nodding. She was telling him to go and find his answers there. Suddenly, the fear of the unknown past that hounded him was gone, disappearing like the morning dew. Turning back to thank her Marcus froze again, Kaylana was gone. It was Cym who smiled at him in the dress before fading and leaving him there to stand alone, holding the wedding gown's sleeve as the seamstress softly coughed.
"It is beautiful. She would look stunning." Corenna stepped next to Marcus carrying a small bundle of clothes they had picked for him to change into.
"Yes, she would." Marcus looked down at Corenna then over to Cym as she ran her hand over the fur of a winter cloak.
"That dress already bares quite a story. The Grand Lord of the city commissioned the dress for his wedding, but his lady disappeared without a word. He came to me that night, tears staining his face as he dropped a pouch of gold at my feet. 'Keep the dress and give it to a couple to whom it rightly belongs. You will know who and when.' And he left the store without another word. Many have come in here and have asked after the dress only to be told no, until now. I will have it packed up and delivered to the clinic, "But now," she said, handing him an armful of clothes, "these are so you don't wander around the city like a vagabond. Go and change."
The seamstress left before Marcus could get in another word, and he stared, slack-jawed, at the woman as she moved back to speak to Cym, part of him feeling like a rider on a runaway horse as the events from the night before continued to sweep him away. No longer really caring, he chuckled and turned for the dressing room in the back of the shop. A few moments later he stepped out, straightening a tan jacket that fit neatly on his lean frame. Pausing to look at himself in one of the many mirrors around the shop, he noted that the light jacket was a nice contrast to the dark brown slacks, and deep forest green shirt. Cym had chosen well for him.
Satisfied with his appearance, Marcus walked over to where Cym stood, and a new found peace and confidence were in his step as he lightly took her hand. His hazel eyes shone down at her as he smiled warmly to both women. "Love, I believe we have taken enough of Corenna's time today, and we have one more stop to make before we go home." Home ... how strange to say and think that word again, but that is what the wanderer had found with the gentle healer.