15th of Spring, 510 AV.
“Calm down... Everything is going to be fine...” Stefan lied to himself, his fatigue finally getting to him. He just wanted to lie down and rest, nothing more, at least for a while, for his head was spinning.
If he remembered correctly, it was the 20th Bell when Stefan went to a binge at The Wolf’s Cave, in Alvadas. He even got to know a Drykas woman, and hooked up with her while they drank, and they agreed to meet again soon.
It might have been the 24th Bell, but Stefan couldn’t be sure. His head was spinning, and beign on the street of the City of Illusions didn’t help at all. It wouldn’t be the first that he lost his way in the city while he was drunk, just to wake up on an alley or inside a haystack.
Of course, anything could happen in Alvadas, and less than a couple of Bells later, Stefan bumped against the door of his house. In reality, it wasn’t actually his house, but the house of his master, an old Benshira leatherworker called Jaben, from la la la. For Stefan, it was gibberish that he didn’t fully understand, mostly because his master insisted on being called just Jaben, and didn’t liked to talk about his home.
Stefan owned everything to that old leatherworker. And to think that Stefan was just a petty thief that stole to eat before. A criminal in Alvadas could get his way sometimes, because pursuing it was really difficult in the ever-changing streets. But other times, he could be easily captured. Stefan personally endured various forms of punishment: from some weeks in prison, to having to repay the stolen goods and even being beaten into unconsciousness. But when Jaben caught him, he instead offered him a chance of an honest job, an honest pay, along with food and shelter. Stefan simply couldn’t refuse.
He would thank him in the morning if he remembered by then. Now he just wanted to go to bed and sleep. However, a smell not unknown to him greeted him when he crossed the door. It wasn’t pleasant, but in his drunkenness, Stefan couldn’t remember what that smell was; he could only remember smelling it before. Stumbling on the wooden floor, he pushed softly on the door to Jaben’s room, without thinking first if he was there.
What Stefan saw sobered him up almost completely. On Jaben’s bed, lying face down, still with a dagger in his back and in a puddle of his own blood, there was the corpse of what appeared to be an Isur, judging by the marks of his arm.
Stefan contemplated the corpse, paralyzed. "What... this is... by the gods, Jaben...” he though. His head hurt, not only from the alcohol, but also for the thousands of questions that crossed his head... and everything stopped suddenly when he heard the slow, heavy steps that he knew so well; the steps of his master, Jaben.
Stefan wasn’t thinking in that moment. Taking the dagger from the corpse just because, Stefan hid inside a wardrobe, holding the weapon firmly to his chest.
Jaben, An old Benshira with completely white hair, a full beard and skin tanned by the desert, with decades of experience in his deep eyes. finally entered the room, viewing his work, while he scratched his white beard with one of his wrinkled hands. In the other, he carried the knife he used to work with leather. There he was, staring at the corpse, barely moving.
Stefan remained in the wardrobe, frightened, now tasting something beside of the alcohol and the sweat of his face. It was the taste of his tears, for he was crying in panic, doing his best to not make a sound.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jaben spoke. “Stefan, son, I’m old but not stupid. I know that you are there, so come out, or I’ll be forced to find you”. His voice sounded solemn, but Stefan knew that he was just bluffing. Or at least, that was what he wanted to believe. Closing his eyes, the young man just wished silently for him to go away, and look for him on any other place.
Instead, the wardrobe door was quickly opened, and the knife pierced Stefan’s thigh. Screaming in pain, the young man fell to the floor, still holding the dagger with his life.
“It was just a matter of time, son.” Jaben said, smiling slightly, taking out the knife from Stefan’s leg, making him scream again. “Don’t worry. This will be quick.” The old man finally said, again stabbing Stefan. Only this time, he failed, as Stefan rolled on the floor to dodge him.
Standing up despite his injuries, Stefan looked at Jaben with horror. The old man just half smiled, and leaped towards the young man with his knife. Stefan managed to catch him by the arms, but the knife struck his right bicep. Clenching his teeth to avoid screaming, Stefan struggled with Jaben the best that he could, but even that old man was stronger than him. Instinctively Stefan kneed Jaben’s knocking the air out of him. That’s when Stefan leaped at him, dagger in hand.
Ignoring his wounds, Stefan stabbed Jaben repeatedly, senseless, staring right into his eyes with his own, his vision blurred by tears. The stabbings were sloppy, so Stefan ended up injuring his own right hand, making it bleed, and making his arm hurt. Finally, after a long while, Stefan stopped, and loosened the grip of the dagger, leaving the hilt stained with his own blood.
Jaben lied on the floor of his room, dead, with his eyes wide open in shock. He didn’t scream at all; he just grunted a couple of times, then silence. Stefan stared at his eyes, catching his breath, taking out the knife from his arm as carefully as he could. Stefan didn’t make any other sound. He just closed Jareb’s eyes, and then ran away from the house, immediately getting lost on the confusing streets of Alvadas, with his clothes and face covered in blood.
The streets of the City of Illusions was the last place where he wanted to be, because thanks to his wounds, Stefan couldn’t navigate well, and often crashed against the walls the he had sworn had never been there before. The blood loss makes him feel lightheaded... at one point, he just ran in what he thought was a straight line, until he touched a wooden floor.
“Calm down... Everything is going to be fine...” Stefan lied to himself, before the fatigue got him. He just lied on the wooden floor, and fainted. |
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by Stefan on January 14th, 2014, 4:25 am 