The Beggar's Past Read online

  The Beggar’s Past

  J.B. Drake

  Cover: Michael Gauss “Helmutt”

  Editing: Martin Ouvry/Jericho Writers

  Copyright © 2020 J.B. Drake

  Kindle Edition

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and may not be re-sold or given away to others. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Prologue

  Sitting upon a cold bench, Neremi stared at the coins in her hand. Thirteen coppers. Mere weeks prior, had she been found with even a single copper in her purse, she’d have faced ridicule and scorn. Yet, here she was, guarding these thirteen as if her life depended on them.

  Closing her eyes, she sighed as she dropped the coins into her purse. But as she opened them, her eyes fell upon the rend in her dress, and her blood boiled anew.

  “That bastard,” she seethed, tears stinging her eyes as she relived events of only a few moments prior.

  “That bloody bastard!”

  She should’ve immolated him the moment he pushed her against that wall. She should’ve made him beg and scream for daring to force that kiss upon her, or for forcing a hand up her dress. She should’ve done a thousand things and more to him. But she’d done nothing.

  Shaking her head, Neremi gritted her teeth and raised her gaze to the night’s sun, her tears running free.

  “You need the work,” she whispered. “Gods forgive me, you need the work.”

  Taking a deep breath, Neremi let it out slowly as she stared once more at the meagre provisions she’d bought. Then, wiping away her tears, she rose, grabbed hold of her bag, and turned to head home.

  “Good evening,” a voice called out from behind her.

  Startled, Neremi spun round, a lightning spell not far away.

  “I mean you no harm, Neremi.”

  It was a man, a human, with flowing blond hair and eyes of purest emerald. There was beauty in his face, of a kind to melt a maiden’s heart. But as Neremi stared at him, all her heart felt was worry.

  “How do you know that name?” she demanded.

  The man smiled.

  “I have never used that name in this town,” Neremi continued. “How do you know it?”

  “I mean you no harm,” the man repeated, then began walking towards her.

  “Stay back!” Neremi barked as she raised a hand to him, lightning darting between her fingers.

  The man obeyed.

  “I shall ask you just once more. “How—“

  “Old Mellor’s son’s getting bolder by the day, isn’t he?”

  Neremi frowned. “What do you know of—”

  “You were lucky today. Had his sister not have walked in when she did, you and I both know what he would’ve done.”

  Neremi’s frown deepened. “You were watching?”

  “Yes.”

  Neremi’s eyes burned with rage at that one word.

  “Enjoy the show, did you?” she snarled.

  “No.”

  Simple though his reply was, it threw Neremi, forcing her to stare with some confusion at the man, and as she lowered her hand, the lightning dissipated.

  “I know it hurts, Neremi,” the man continued after a brief silence. “All that knowledge, all that time in the Tower, and this is the best you can find.”

  “I don’t need your pity,” Neremi spat as she raised her chin at him.

  A sad smile parted the man’s lips. “It’s not pity, Neremi, I feel your pain. You gave that Tower everything, you gave your family everything, and now…now you have nothing. Nobody wants someone the king and her own family have set themselves against so publicly, why would they? You can’t even use your own name. That’s just…”

  Sighing, the stranger shook his head.

  Neremi’s chin remained raised, but the quiver of her lips told a different tale. Then, as her tears formed anew, she looked away.

  The man nodded as he took a step forward. “I know how you feel.”

  “What do you know?” Neremi demanded through clenched teeth, turning to glare at him.

  The man smiled, the pain in his eyes mirroring Neremi’s. “I know you want to start over, away from here. Like you and Thalas dreamed.”

  At the mention of her beloved’s name, Neremi’s face finally fell as her tears ran free.

  “But where will you go?” the man continued. “How far is far enough?”

  Neremi stared at the man, but held her peace.

  “Leaving won’t dull the pain, Neremi, no matter how far you go.”

  “What do you know?” Neremi repeated, her voice quivering.

  “I know there is no justice in this world, save that which we fight for. What happened to you is unjust, plain and simple. Your life is ruined, but Thane is forgiven. You’re forced to live off scraps while those two gutter rats dine in the Tower. It’s unjust, Neremi, and you will never find peace till you find justice.”

  In the silence that followed, Neremi stared at the stranger before her as his words echoed in her mind. Once or twice, she tried to speak, to form her words, but each time, words failed her, and in the end, all she could do was stare.

  “What do you want?” she asked at last.

  “To help,” the man replied as he began walking towards her once more.

  “Why?”

  As the man reached her, he sneered. “Kin-Slayer.”

  Upon hearing that word, Neremi’s hackles rose.

  “You’re not the only one she’s hurt,” the man continued. “I’m here to offer you vengeance, on her and her vessel.”

  At last, Neremi smiled as she shook her head. There was no warmth in her smile.

  “I see,” she said, her smile turning to a sneer.

  “You see…what?”

  “Look, whoever you are—” Neremi began.

  “Call me Marcus.”

  “I don’t care. I always knew scum like you would come crawling after me, looking to use me to learn the Tower’s secrets. That you would use my grief in such a manner speaks volumes for how vile a man you are. You will leave me alone now, or you shall taste the very secrets you came to learn.”

  The man stared at her as a slow smile parted his lips.

  “Well?” Neremi snapped. “Have you gone deaf?”

  “The apple in your bag,” the man replied. “Take a bite.”

  “What?”

  “Take a bite.”

  Neremi glared at him a spell, her anger straining at its leash.

  “Get lost,” she snarled at last, then turned and resumed her march. But at her second step, the man was standing before her, an apple in his hand.

  “What…?” Neremi began, then opened her bag.

  Sure enough, her apple was gone.

  “How did you…?” she continued as she stared at him once more.

  The man grinned, then took a humongous bite.

  “Hey!”

  Grinning still, the man chewed, then held the apple out for Neremi to see.

  “Watch closely,” he said as his grin faded, and as Neremi’s gaze went to the apple, she watched it slowly rot to a putrid mound right there in the man’s hand.

  “Impressive,” she muttered, arching a regal eyebrow. “You know how to rot a whole apple. Your necromancy skills must be second-to-none.”

  “Scry it.”

  “What?”

  “Scry it. It may be an illusion.”

  Neremi did. It wasn’t an illusion.

  “Now, what?” she demanded.

  “Watch,” the man replied.

  Then, as Neremi’s gaze went to the apple once more, she watched as it slowly returned to its former state, as if time had been unwound.

  “How did you…?”
Neremi breathed as she stared the man, but the answer was already hers.

  “It’s a trick!” she exclaimed at last, refusing to accept the truth before her. “An illusion!”

  “Then, scry it.”

  Neremi did. It wasn’t an illusion.

  “But it’s dead,” she continued. “Nobody’s practised it in aeons. How could you…?”

  Smiling once more, the man raised the apple to his lips and took another bite.

  “You will teach me, then?” Neremi asked after a spell.

  The man nodded. “Of course. Without it, you could never hope to destroy Kin-Slayer and her vessel.”

  Neremi frowned. “Why not do it yourself?”

  The man smiled. “Kin-Slayer and I have…history. There are those who will come to her aid should I move against her directly.”

  “I see,” Neremi mused. “What’s in it for me?”

  The man smile turned to a smirk. “Is destroying the one being most responsible for where you find yourself not sufficient?”

  It was now Neremi’s turn to smirk, cocking her head to the side as she did so.

  “Very well, then,” the man continued “how about how about this? When it’s all over, you will keep whatever tools, riches and knowledge I’ve given you. Who…or what you destroy with them is none of my concern.”

  A slow smile parted Neremi’s lips. It was not a pleasant smile.

  “Anyone?” she said.

  The man shrugged. “Not my concern.”

  Neremi stared at the man for a spell longer, his offer echoing in her mind. But in the end, there could truly only be one answer.

  “We have an accord, then,” she said at last.

  “Excellent!” the man exclaimed. “There are others who may join us, in time. But you will be my general.”

  A warm smile parted Neremi’s lips. “General…I like the sound of that.”

  “Good!”

  Neremi’s smile grew to a grin. “When do we start?”

  The man’s smile grew in return. “Whenever you wish.”

  Neremi moved to speak, then caught herself, turning instead to stare at the inn that was her place of work.

  “Do we have time for good-byes?”

  The man nodded. “Of course.”

  With her smile turning to a sneer, Neremi dropped her bag before marching forth, a few whispered words calling forth a blue aura about her. Then, as the inn’s doors closed behind the former Mage Adept, screams rang out in the night as her new master bit down on his apple, a deep smirk upon his lips.

  “Are you sure about this, Father?” Tessia thought as she stared at her brother from the shadows within which she stood, the screams and shrieks from the inn bringing a deep frown to her lips.

  “Better he betray us this way than with Maena.”

  “Allow me act, Father, and he will not betray us at all.”

  “You know your brother, Tessia, anger still burns in his heart. He will find a way.”

  Tessia sighed. “This is a mistake.”

  “I can contain it.”

  Tessia shook her head. “This is a mistake, Father.”

  “You doubt me?”

  Tessia sighed once more.

  “No,” she said at last, then faded into the night as the screams continued.

  A Final Farewell

  Shivering, little Tip pulled his coat tighter about him as the snow fell. On any other day, he’d be filled with joy, for he loved snow. He loved the way the flakes floated down to earth, with nary a care in the world. He loved the way they felt as they fell upon his tongue, melting away in moments. And he especially loved how they made Marshalla squeal when he shoved a handful down the back of her tunic.

  But this was not a day of revelry, but rather a day of sorrow, for this was the day the Mage Adept Thalas Grovemender was laid to rest. And so, standing in the Shimmering Tower’s graveyard, the young elf huddled within his coat as his eyes wandered about those gathered, and there were many. Most were from the Tower, others Tip had never seen before, but all carried about them a sombre and depressing air.

  In truth, Tip had no idea what to expect when he’d awoken that morning, for he’d never attended a burial before. But he knew he had to attend, even though Thalas’s last act was to try and end him.

  “You cold?” whispered a voice from beside him.

  Turning, Tip smiled at his dear Marshalla.

  “Only a little,” he replied.

  Marshalla nodded. “Should be done soon, then can leave this place.”

  Sighing, Tip nodded, then turned his gaze to the forlorn elf standing a ways from them. With an aching heart, he stared at the only reason he’d agreed to come, and as he stared, every fibre of his being pleaded with him to walk forth, to throw his arms about his young friend and comfort him as best he could, for even at his distance, Tip could see the redness of young Davian’s eyes, though it was the deadness within them that hurt the most.

  “Poor boy.” The chronodragon within Tip sighed.

  “Yeah.” Tip nodded. “He looks really sad.”

  “For one so young to know such grief… Not that my heart bleeds for the dead bastard, but…it’s always the ones you leave behind that are hurt the most.”

  “Yeah,” Tip thought as he nodded once more.

  “You okay, Tip?” Marshalla whispered, drawing him from his thoughts.

  As he turned to face her, Tip watched Marshalla’s eyes rise from him to Davian. Then, with a sigh, he turned back to Davian. As he stared, he felt a hand grasp his.

  “It’s not fair, Marsha,” he whispered, squeezing the hand within his.

  Marshalla sighed as she shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

  “Hush now,” Baern whispered behind the pair. “We’re about to start.”

  As one, the pair stared forward as Matriarch Naeve Earthchild walked to the fore. Stepping upon a small dais by the closed coffin, the Matriarch carried her gaze about all gathered, then smiled and nodded at the elf standing behind Davian.

  “Magister Grovemender,” she began, “my heart breaks for your loss…”

  “No matter how many times I attend these things,” Anieszirel said, drawing Tip’s attention from the Matriarch’s words, “they never get easier.”

  “You been to one before?” he thought.

  “I’ve been to many, Tip. Too many.”

  “Yeah, not nice here.”

  “But what makes this one so unbearable is everyone’s acting like Thalas was some hero. That boy had blood on his hands.”

  Tip turned to Davian once more. “Davian misses him though.”

  Anieszirel sighed. “Yes, and that’s the real tragedy. They should be focusing on those he left behind, not him.”

  At Anieszirel’s words, Tip glanced from Davian to Thane, the only one in Thalas’s old group permitted to attend. Thane’s eyes were transfixed upon the coffin, his gaze almost piercing it.

  “Wonder what he’s thinking,” he thought.

  “He’s probably wondering whether his betrayal was worth it or not.”

  Tip frowned. “What you mean?”

  “Well, to have sacrificed all that he had in the name of love, only for his love to spurn him…were I him, I’d be asking myself whether I made the right choice. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, his sacrifice saved our skin.”

  Tip sighed. This truly was a sordid affair, with few victors and so many victims. Shaking his head, he turned to the Matriarch once more and stood silent as he listened to her eulogy for the fallen Mage Adept.

  With a deep breath, Tip turned to Marshalla as the gathered began to disperse.

  “Glad that’s over,” Marshalla muttered as she turned to Tip.

  “Marsha!” Baern hissed behind them.

  “What?” Marshalla exclaimed. “Why so many people got to say something? They already forgotten what he like?”

  “That’s beside the point and you know it! They were simply paying their respects.”

  “More like licking T
huridan’s arse.” Anieszirel sniffed as Marshalla scoffed.

  Grinning, Tip stared from one to the other, and just as Baern was about to scold Marshalla, his eyes fell upon Davian, standing with his father a little apart from the dispersing crowd. Biting his lip, young Tip pulled his hand from Marshalla’s and turned to make his way to Davian.

  “Where you going?” Marshalla asked.

  Stopping, Tip turned to her, before turning and pointing briefly at Davian.

  “Just going to pay my recspects,” he said.

  “Respects,” Anieszirel corrected.

  “Respects, Tip,” Marshalla added.

  “Yeah, “Tip nodded. “Be quick.”

  “Wait,” Marshalla replied as she moved to follow him. “Coming with you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be quick, you two,” Baern said as the pair made their way towards Davian.

  As they walked, however, both soon realised they weren’t the only ones looking to pay their respects. Many of those gathered had the same idea, and a line had already begun to form.

  “Might take a while, this,” Marshalla muttered as she stopped.

  Stopping himself, Tip stared at the line, then at Marshalla.

  “Don’t want to join?” he asked.

  “No point.” Marshalla shook her head. “Let’s wait here, Davian’ll see us.”

  Frowning, Tip turned back to the line.

  “But…” he began after a spell, then fell silent as he realised none of those in line were saying more than a couple of words to Davian. In fact most ignored him altogether. Everyone seemed more intent on consoling Thuridan.

  Biting back his disgust, Tip slipped a hand into Marshalla’s as he stood silent, his eyes upon Davian. It wasn’t long before Davian’s gaze met theirs, and, with a tight frown, the grieving boy stared from Tip to Marshalla before turning to his father.

  “Forgive me, Father,” he said.

  “Hrm?” Thuridan replied as he looked at his son.

  In response, Davian nodded at the pair.

  As Thuridan’s eyes went to where Davian had gestured, his gaze hardened greatly.

  “I’ll be quick,” Davian added after a brief silence.

  Thuridan stared in silence for a spell, but soon nodded.

  Nodding himself, Davian made his way to the pair.