“Liar…” Reven dared to whisper, watching the interlude carefully. He bit his tongue as soon as he realized he was heard.
Mahrvain growled, lunging toward the bard in a blind rage. The man was a beast, all muscle and had no care for rules or honest fighting. He charged right into Reven, knocking him flat on his back, hands around the poor bard’s throat. The crowd hollered again, cheering or jeering as was their pleasure. The air would not surface in Revan’s lungs, making him panic as he felt the familiar burn of Power coursing through his veins. That would only make things worse. Arcanists were hung in Kalaegh.
“ENOUGH!” the guild master finally boomed.
Air suddenly rushed Reven’s lungs, allowing him to suck in ragged breaths while Liam helped him sit up. There was silence for a moment as the guild master restored order. He then turned to discuss matters with Mahrvain in hushed tones, all the while glancing at Liam and Reven. Mahrvain fumed, glaring horribly at each of the olven men in turn. The hakimu would not take this insult lightly, regardless of what the guild master’s ruling might be.
“Got more balls in ya than I’d expected, mate. You’ve not even been drinkin’ yet,” Liam whispered. Reven glared at him.
“A new arrangement will be made,” the guild master declared. “You two will retrieve a treasure on my list. The worth of it will be divided - half to me, the other half to Mahrvain for the sleight he has received this day. In return, you will be allowed to live another day. The woman will be kept in our holding cells until your return. All contracts with our guild, however, are now forfeit.”
Liam and Reven regarded one another, looking back to the mess that was left of Ajana. There did not seem to be any life left in her. All they could do was hope that she would pull through.
“Allow her to be healed first,” Reven dared.
“Show of good faith.”
The guild master twisted his lips in annoyance. “I would not waste the coin to heal her,” the guild master huffed.
“Then let me do it,” Reven cut in. He kicked himself for speaking so quickly, but recovered with equal speed. “I am a bard, after all. It will be something and at no cost to you.”
The guild master looked at his retainer, murmured something to him that made the other man nod, and Mahrvain scowl.
“Agreed. She will be branded a traitor to the guild - but I give you her life. Yours are still in jeopardy. Are we in accordance?”
Reven and Liam looked at each other again, then to the guild master, both answering in unison.
“Done.”
***
Several hours later, Reven mused at the state of things. At one point in time, when they first arrived in Kalaegh, Reven wondered why the people were so dark of skin. They were not like the tywyll olve who had skin like charcoal, in equally varying shades of gray. The tywyll lived mostly underground or in caves. Their skin made it easier for them to hide, much like the duende had a ruddy, brownish coloring that helped them hunt within the forests that most lived in. But the people of Kalaegh had no caves or forests. Almost all of them lived in coastal cities or fishing hamlets away from the wild jungles at the center of the island. Yet, they all claimed that Yira, the goddess of dreams, stitched them from the night sky in her image and offered no other logical explanation for their dark coloring; they didn’t even fish at night.
However, as Reven trudged through the dense jungle at the center of the island, sweat plastering his linen tunic to his back and chest, he understood why. It was not from any god or for any hunting - - it was so that they did not fry to a crisp when the sun rose in the sky. The sun beat down on the weary olven men despite the shade from the tall, thin trees with their wide-spread fronds. Reven felt the burn on the back of his neck and tips of his ears, his own pale skin unaccustomed to so much torment. He would easily be the color of an apple by morning.
“Why is it so bloody hot out here?” Liam complained. Reven only snorted, stepping over a fallen log. He used a staff to balance himself, Liam following along with groans and complaints.
“This is your fault,” Reven said. “Nearly five years I’ve known you, chivalrous is never a word I’d have thought to describe you but suddenly you grow a set when Mahrvain is involved?”
“Shu’ up,” Liam groaned. They remained silent for a time after that, stopping occasionally to rest their legs or drink from a canteen that needed refilling.
“How much further?” Reven asked while they sat against a tree. He was tired already, his left leg cramping uncomfortably. The jungle was beautiful but stifling in its heat and humidity. The air felt like a wet blanket and, despite the sun, both men walked in little more than small clothes through the living sauna.
“Eh…Just over that small ridge. There’s a network of caves, I guess. That’s where this treasure’s s’posed t’be.”
“Do we even know what this stupid treasure is?” Reven countered.
“Jewel,” Liam shrugged, tucking the map away in his sack. “Red one. Ishaq said we’d know it when we saw it.”
“Glorious,” Reven grumbled. “Who in all the hells is Ishaq?”
“Guild master,” Liam answered, pushing off the rock he leaned on. “C’mon.”
Reven only made a confused face and followed. Liam knew too much, kept too many secrets. It was not worth
