[927] – Y04.027 – Trouble Under The Steel I

[927] – Y04.027 – Trouble Under The Steel I

“Vonda!” Adam called out, bursting into the room, almost knocking the nurses aside, finding his wife laying within a bed, tended to by at least four mermen.

“Adam...” Vonda replied, having heard his steps from afar, already having calmed herself. She held out her hand towards the half elf, who took it within his own, uncertainty clouding his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Vonda smiled warmly, though the wrinkles around her brows were more strained than normal.

“...” Adam swallowed. He couldn’t dare to ask the other question on his mind, his heart thundering within his chest as he brought the back of her fingers to his forehead.

Jurot glanced towards Vonda and Adam, having followed Adam so silently, he was certain his brother had no idea he was there. He stepped aside, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. ‘It will be fine...’ Yet, the silence in his heart began to fill with something else.

“Vonda...” Adam continued to hold her hand against his forehead. ‘You damn idiot! How didn’t you notice your own wife was pregnant? Seriously, man! You goddamn... shit! Shit!’

Vonda could feel Adam’s grip grow ever so slightly tighter, before she also squeezed his hand gently, causing the half elf to come back to the world.

“I’ll go speak with Lord Sozain.”

“I will pray to Mother Soza.”

“Yeah...” Adam kissed the back of his wife’s hand, before charging away, not yet spotting Jurot’s presence. “Prince Morkarai, where is the temple?”

“I will lead you to it.”Ne/w novel chapters are published at novelhall.com

“I’ll go...” Adam wanted to go alone, but understood it was probably best to take the Prince with him, just in case he found himself in trouble. “Alright.”

Several statues awaited for Adam, each made of marble, untouched by the water of the ocean. The details were fine, almost lifelike, save for the faces, as plain as simple stone. The statues were formed in the image of the various mermen, and though some were larger than others, the total mass of the statues seemed to be similar.

Adam dropped down in front of the statue of the small merman boy sitting atop the throne of skulls and coral, the face plainly staring towards the half elf. Adam kowtowed before the statue, his forehead pressed firmly against the floor, his hands on either side of his head.

“I know. I know I don’t pray to you enough. I know, I know.” Adam swallowed, and even with Prince Morkarai’s gaze upon his pathetic sight, the half elf gave away whatever shred of dignity he had. “I’ve begun paying my taxes to you, and it may not be enough, but just this once, Lord Sozain. Just this once. Whatever you want, whatever you need, but don’t take them away from me. Just this once.”

Prince Morkarai wasn’t sure how he felt. The phrase Adam used was a phrase he was so used to, but rather than begging the God of Death to ignore the domain he possessed, it was a joke for the children around him. Morkarai watched as Adam slipped his hands into his tunic, slipping out two diamonds cut in a particular manner. He placed them upon the bowl, the diamonds clattering, echoing within the private temple space, white and bare, speckled only by the patterns of marble.

Adam clutched at his amulet, tight within his hand, his eyes shut tight. ‘Please, Lord Sozain.’ He remained upon his knees for a long while, praying with all his heart, blocking out the rest of the world around him.

Morkarai silently crept towards another statue, that of the plain faced woman who held a bowl of fruit within her lap, with one piece of fruit conspicuously missing. He knelt before it, placing a gem within the bowl at her feet, and he prayed silently too. Though his heart thought of how futile this was, a thought passed through his mind. ‘If it’s Adam...’

Adam had no idea how long he had prayed for, but as he returned back to the world, he felt his amulet almost searing his hands with how hot it had become. He inhaled deeply, smelling the scent of almost burning obsidian, before he let out a soft sigh. ‘Okay.’

Morkarai followed the silent half elf as he returned back to the room, finding his wife fast asleep, her hands crossed over the amulet upon her chest. Adam sat down beside her, sitting there silently for some time, not even hearing Morkarai leave. Even then, Adam didn’t notice Jurot standing in the room to one side, before the Iyrman disappeared.

‘It’s going to be okay,’ Adam thought. ‘Everything’s going to be okay.’

Jurot approached the figure standing in front of the statue of the plain faced boy sitting upon a throne of skulls and coral. He stared at the boy, who was no doubt Baktu, Lord Sozain, God of Death.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jaygak said, reaching out to pat Jurot’s side.

“Okay,” Jurot replied, staring at the statue.

“The Iyr will help.”

Jurot remained silent.

“They must.”

Jurot didn’t reply.

“I’ll cause a mess.”

‘Seriously! We can’t adventure because I can’t keep it in my pants? Where’s my husband and wife adventuring power couple fantasy? Damn it! Isn’t this meant to be a fantasy world? So why can’t babies just be born from magic?’

Vonda continued to brush along Adam’s hand tenderly with a finger, noting how he was thinking of something stupid. ‘Home...’ Vonda wondered if the Iyr was truly her home, quickly feeling the stress of her worries creep into her heart. “I would like to sleep longer. You should walk and clear your head.”

“Alright,” Adam said, not wanting to go, but also not wanting to refuse his wife. The pair kissed one another’s cheeks before Adam slipped away, brimming with prideful annoyance. ‘I’m not whipped, I’m just wise enough to listen. I’m only listening to you because you’re so smart, and beautiful, and you’re the best, that’s all.’

Once Adam stepped outside the room, a chill seeped within him, and suddenly whatever stupid jokes he had to protect himself crumbled, like a sandcastle against the waves. He shut the door and inhaled deeply, trying to still his nervous heart.

‘Everything’s going to be okay.’

Adam walked through the halls, though his eyes barely saw any details around himself, unable to admire the marvellous architecture around him, to smell the wonderful smells of the new land he was exploring, or hear the new, strange, curious sounds.

“You are Adam?” called a voice, filled with the holier than thou attitude only the children of the worst criminals could possibly hold, or as one might call them, royalty.

Adam stopped, closing his eyes, inhaling deeply, before he turned his head. He took in the sight of the large merman, with a single guard beside him. He had long curly hair, and carried a golden trident upon his back, adorned in golden scales which shimmered so brightly almost threatening to blind those too close.

“You do not look so strong,” the merman said, grinning wide to reveal his wide teeth, each pointed like daggers.

Adam’s forehead pulsed, reaching up to his forehead, pressing his fingers against the pulsing bulge. “I’m not in the mood.”

The merman narrowed his eyes, the smile fading from his lips and eyes. “Not in the mood? Why do I need to care of your mood?” He reached up to pull his trident up, before slamming it into the ground. “Come. Draw your blade. I will see whether there is truth to my sister’s words.”

“Hey,” Adam said, his eyes glaring into the merman fool’s eyes. “I’m. Not. In.”

Adam closed his eyes, turning his head as the merman threw water which seemingly appeared from nowhere towards his, feeling the coolness against his cheek and neck, before it dripped onto his seasilk attire, which allowed the water to fall onto his feet.

The merman spoke words in another tongue, but Adam could already hear the barbarism that was noble civility.

‘They say he fought Sir Safu,’ the merman thought, staring at Adam, grinning wide towards him. ‘Heh. Let us see if he is any good.’

The merman had heard a rumour from his own servants of this half elf, but there were some things he hadn’t heard. He hadn’t heard of Adam’s current worries. He hadn’t heard of how Prince Morkarai had asked Adam to step back. He hadn’t heard that Adam loved to relieve his stress by putting beating up nobles, with royalty being his absolute favourite. He hadn’t heard of who his grandfather was, who lived so many thousands of miles away, within large walls which not even the mermen dared to covet.

Dawn welcomed the Iyr and its mighty walls, the light engulfing the walls. Many Iyrmen went about their lives, worrying little of the outside. Many Iyrmen tended to the fields, others carried bits and pieces elsewhere upon their Elder’s command, their payment not gold as the Aldish or Aswadians, but the pride of building something greater.

A particular one armed, one legged Iyrman, awoke early in the morning, as the elderly tended to. He walked along the perimeter of the extended family estate, though he hated walking so slowly, the clanking of his metal foot only heating his heart with a greater stubbornness than he originally held. After his walk, the Iyrman began his workout, the same workout he completed every morning, from his various squats, to his push ups, to his pull ups, to utilizing the kettlebells, dambells, and barbells his grandson had created.

Zirot inhaled sharply as she carefully lifted up the heavy barbell, one which remained in the same spot, weighing more than the average Iyrman, and only lifted in a particular way. There were many barbells upon the earth, each along various columns, each heavier than the last. The corner of the dead, the Iyrmen had dubbed it, for the so aptly named lift which had become a favourite for the Iyrmen. There were few Iyrmen which could lift those towards the end, but many Iyrmen hovered around that section in particular.

Zirot dropped the weight, it clanking against the floor, with the flat edge of the weights falling upon the soft earth beneath, which had hardened under the many lifts. She stretched out her back, before glancing to the side to see her brother, who was her husband’s brother by blood, and hers by marriage.

The pair approached the field where many Iyrmen completed their morning spars, the soft wind cooling their sweaty bodies. The pair stretched their bodies, swung their axes, meditating within the feeling of working their old bodies.

“I can feel it,” Jarot admitted, breaking the silence. “It has been some time.”

“I can feel it at the ends of my axe,” Zirot agreed.

Jarot glanced aside to his sister, smiling wildly. “It will grow harder for me to defeat you.”

Zirot smiled. “I cannot allow Tarot to beat me so easily.”

Jarot thought of his brother who had left for quite some time. “I cannot allow him to return more powerful than me. What will I say to Sarot when I go see him?”

“You will have many years to think.”

Jarot inhaled sharply, feeling the air rush through his lungs, his body cracking as he warmed himself. “Yes.”

“Your greatchildren are too young for you to leave just yet.”

A back to back cliffhanger?