The Light of the Spires

A beam of light pierced the heavy drapes, light reflected off the gold covered spire of the morning. Julian rose from his worn seat, straightened his crumpled robes and shut the drapes.  The sun shining briefly on his bald head before he sighs in the comfort of the darkness the thick curtains gave. A candle on his desk giving light but like a cruel joke, an illustration of the spires stared back at him as he turned back to his desk to resume his clerical duties. Sitting down and picking up the commissioned illustration, thumbing over the pink marble in the drawing.

‘It’s not the same shade…’ he remarks to himself as he tucks it in a drawer.

Then signs the form of refusal. Tossing away the coin.

As he leaved the room he bumped into a large figure in ill-fitting robes, too distracted to pay attention, still he lashed out. ‘Be more attentive, Orc.’

They initially agreed to the bumbling figure’s request to help due to the need for muscle, being a tributary of the Spires of Morning in the Dock Ward they offered healing services for the populace here. Some were worthwhile, and initially Julian was hopeful. Before the wrinkle in his forehead and callouses in his writing hand. ‘Umm… Sorry! I’ll just get these mister Julian.’

The orc remarked. His voice irritated Julian, so positive. They spent all day healing drunkards that found themselves in bar fights. Rude, tactless brutes that gave no respect and just threw silver at him to treat a fight wound. Vomiting on their floors, the debris of this fine city.

One more year, he told himself. Then, he would be writing at the top of the golden spire.

‘Useless.’ He says without even looking at the Orc, his mind lost in his failure.

‘We can’t take ‘em there Rat-Feet.’ A girl tugged at the taller boy’s sleeve as he carried a smaller boy, passed out with long black hair and an unnatural twist to his left leg. ‘Quiet Lucky.’ He remarks. They walked in the side of the allies where the shadows of crates, barrels and vendors shaded their steps. Around dusk as the rowdier denizens paid them no mind. Carousing and littering the cobblestone streets of the Dock Ward. Skittering left into an alley as a man was punched into a wall. His friend laughing before throwing up three feet away. ‘I hate this city, and I hate you Rat-Feet. We shouldn’t have snuck into that place.’ Lucky Louse mumbled as she quietly followed their leader. ‘One day we’ll all leave…’ A stern look in his face as they carried their friend. ‘I didn’t know it was Zentarim.’ The younger boy he was carrying coughed as he winced. ‘Look, you don’t know anything Ratty. But we love ye still’ he says in a quiet voice before closing his eyes again.

‘This is it.’ Rat-Feet remarked as he wiped his brow, biting his lower lip with his buck teeth as they stood in front of the back of a store. The bricks in the back had vines growing to the side, as if nature refused to be paved. An unusually large basement window stared back at them, covered in vines. ‘I just don’t know how to…’ Rat started as Lucky knelt by the window, brushing away her straw coloured hair as she smiled and knocked it twice. The vines started curling away as the window creaked open. ‘I guess I know why we call you Lucky, yer still a Louse though.’ Rat mentioned as he pushed her aside to poke his head in. ‘Hello?’

A figure in the back of the room lifted a vial, looking back in its reflection as it changed from clear to a deep turquoise. ‘Please, come in little friends.’ He walked with a cane as the window lead to stairs and they were able to stand. Wooden desks covered with vials, potted unusual plants, a hemp rope with hanging herbs stood over a large desk with text books. In the middle of the room, a table with blood stains soaked into the wood. ‘Put ‘yer friend down there and close the window behind you all. My name is Alfyn Greengrass and this little establishment is the Cellar Garden. Let’s snap some bones back into place then.’ He says with the pride of a store owner as he casually placed a hand on Mouse’s shoulder, giving a poultice. ‘How did you.. what… no!’ The children stood back in fear and discomfort, unsure, Alfyn hushed them as he hunched over the form of the boy. Assessing him, pouring liquid onto his hands as he breathed in and grabbed his little leg, then he snapped the bone back into its socket with a sickening crack. He moves to a saucepan placed hazardously next to some books. ‘Tea?’

‘Buck teeth?’ The Halfling furrowed his thick brows as he looked down with a handsome faced that didn’t match his muscle bound frame. Wearing leather armour made for Halflings, but those shorter than he was. ‘Don’t ask questions, just find him for me and give him this.’ The white scaled Dragonborn would stand out if not for his heavy cloak and quiet very civil voice.

‘…’ The Halfling paused but he then smiled. ‘My services are always on point, awesome, job scored.’ He pocketed the letter and gripped his hammer tightly. This was his chance, not to mention a way to get rid of the substantial debt he built up at the Shady Siren after punching its owner against a brick wall. ‘It is done.’ The Dragonborn shook his hand, he couldn’t tell if it was male or female, but its grip was firm and felt as cold as ice. No matter, there was something he could do with his evening that was positive. When he first came here he thought he’d be a hero.

A tall building in the distance reflected the moon on its tower, he paused a moment to admire the view. He was a long way from home, this is where he wanted to be. Away from the silence. And into the loud streets of Waterdeep. The place where dreams come true. However, in here, the tallest man in the village is just a short man. ‘A short man with a plan.’ He says to himself as he tucked the letter away, sealed with a coin of a diving dragon on pristine parchment, and stepped out into the rowdy streets of the Dock Ward.

He was humming to himself, today I helped! The man was such a nice man. He said ‘Thank you sir.’ He called me sir! His fingers curled tighter around the broom as he swept the hall. Father Julian was still in his quarters, probably doing important holy things and writing letters to make people dreams come true, his work is what makes him angry. It’s a very serious job! It sure is dark in here. Just then as he swept the floor the stones flashed. He swept it again, motes of light were swept off the carpet and floated in the air. He swept harder, he thought of all the mean people he met, the father he never knew. He got out his rag and started scrubbing the stones. He let it go, all the anger, all the resentment. The floor shone and shone, the motes of light floated around him, the smell of his mother’s cooking, traces of vanilla.

‘Orc!’ Julians cracked voice echoed as the light faded away.

He entered the room and saw that the candle had fallen on the desk. Julian was busy moving documents away. ‘Clean this up!’ He rushed over and started picking things up, clumsily dropping them. ‘Never mind, get out, you’re useless.’ Julian said with a sigh, a cruel lick of disdain lashing out as he just looked back, towering over him. The Orc gripping a decorated parchment. Julians eyes dart to the illustration of the morning spires, with marks left by the Orc’s grubby fingers. ‘Get your hands off..’ Then his hands were on fire.

The Orc’s hands were on fire.

His eyes turned blank, Julian’s eyes, as his jaw dropped. His illustration going up in flames. The flames spreading to the heavy drapes as they started letting in the moonlight reflected off the golden spire. Julian clenched his fists and then reached for the illustration. The Orc gripped his hand. The old man fell to his knees, screaming in anguish as the flesh of his palm burnt black.

Alfyn walked down the streets, towards the Castle Ward. Tugging at the strap of his heavy rucksack as he waved at an old man sitting outside a store. ‘Stay off the cheap booze Peter!’ He calls out as the old gnome chuckled and shouted back ‘Always! Unless we have some together!.’ The large bag looked ill-fitting on the thin frame of the Half-Elf. Moving back his gray specked ponytail that blew to his face, brushing against stubble. Tidying his wrinkled clothes as he stepped past the gates into the more affluent part of town. Disordered cobblestone turning into neat marble slabs, slotted geometrically a guard nodding at him as he offers an apple but is met with a raised gauntlet of refusal. Whistling as he goes down to the Guild Hall.

‘One.. two.. five…’ The Halfling clerk sighed as he pushed up his round glasses. ‘Mister Greengrass we both know those are four Gold coins, your charges for guild supplies are five gold pieces to be paid in full or…’ ‘Fine.. fine.. ye know being so serious all the time isn’t good for the old health.’ He puts his last gold coin on the table as he is given a nod and a careless thumb points to the crate of alchemical supplies. ‘Pleasure to see you again Mister Clerk man.’ He grunts as he goes back to reading a book with a voluptuous Tiefling woman on the cover.

Alfyn’s hands shook as he carried the now heavier rucksack, less from fatigue and more from anxiety. He received more Shade Root than expected in the crate. He shut his eyes tight.

Then turned into a nearby alley. He grunted as he dropped the rucksack and started to tear through it. Getting out a mortar and pestle as he starts breaking it down. His hair falling over his forehead, he did it methodically, perfectly. Cutting the plant, mixing in a little water. Grinding it with circular motion. His back slumped against the cold wall as he cools it down with his bare hands, it crystalizes. He holds it and lets it fall to the ground where it shatters. Then he blocks one nose, and inhales off the dirty cold floor.

‘There’s the little man.’ The Halfling huffed triumphantly, having to pay off and haggle with rude street urchins that eventually point him in the right direction. One even had the stones to chuck a stone at him. The buck teeth were hard to miss, apparently his street name is Rat-Feet… probably should be Rat Face but the boy was unusually large. Probably had big feet. Then, before he could even make up a plan a smaller crouching boy looked up at him. His eyes deep gray, long hair falling over a small face. His eyes pierced right into him. They both knew. How did he know? Then they started running. ‘You got this.’ He pumped himself up as he started running through the streets. Crashing and pushing away a man carrying a crate as he yells sorry but keeps barrelling through. His stout form not being affected by forces that really should knock him down as the children skittered away like street rats, Clambering and leaping around. ‘Stop you monkeys! I just..’ A giant Half Orc smacks right into him and pushes him, the Halfling doesn’t move, then ducks under his legs as he keeps chasing them. ‘Have a letter for you!’ Then he turned into an alley, and they all fell on to him. They started trying to pull him down but he just calmly pulls out the letter. The little one punches him in the kidneys unexpectedly and he did kneel down a bit but Rat-Feet saw the letter and snatches it out of his hand. ‘You’re welcome.’ The kids started running as they cause a carriage rider to reign in his horses and curse at him. ‘Quest completed.’ The Halfling says as he brushes himself off.

The Half Elf heard the sound of horses, his nose burnt from the cold.

‘Get up!’ He calls out to the figure on the ground, his strong frame picks her up.

‘Get up!’ He repeats as their horse seemed so far away, the wind biting at his soul.

‘Get up!’ He was lifted up, ‘Wears the money Greengrass?’

‘I have the money, it’s in my horse’s saddle.’ He says to the Cleric as he dropped her cold body.

‘You’re pathetic.’ He drops to the floor, exhausted. ‘We’ll come back later.’

‘No, please, you have to help me.’ He crawls to the horse as he barely lifts himself up. The saddle was empty. ‘You have to save her.’ He says as he falls back down.

‘I can’t, we don’t have what is needed. We need a diamond and..’

‘I’ll give you *everything!.’* He shouts at the stone wall as he hunches over.

Then he starts vomiting diamonds, falling out of his mouth as they crystallize and embed into the cold street floor. Then they turn into vines, and on each vine, a perfect diamond.

‘I can do it.. I can…’ Then he starts seeing patterns in the vine tree, the diamonds had a design to them. There is meaning to the chaos, he just had to give in to it. Her cold lifeless body at his feet. He starts drawing in his sketchbook. He plucks a diamond from the vines, gets the mortar and pestle and crushed it with the same precision he prepared the Shade Root. He mixes it in a vial. Cools it just the right amount and drinks, he felt better. He looked down at her face, the one that looked so much like him. He brings the vial to her lips, then she was gone.

He ran.

Throwing open the doors as he started humming to himself, the fire spread as he looked back.

I am a good man. He says to himself as he stood in the doorway in a daze. He goes back inside.

Am I a good man? He walked pass a mirror that reflected his hulking Orcish frame with a faint light of the fire. He starts running. I do the things a good man should do. He shoulders the door to Father Julian’s office. The heavy draped windows were gone, he managed to crawl to the side of the room not being licked by flames. The large Orc goes down to scoop up the old man. He then looks up at him. I forgive all of you, I am a good man. He reaches out a large hand with fat fingers and grips the old weak man’s wrist. Light motes floating around him as he smiles.

I forgive you, and I’m sorry.

Father Julian winces as blood dribbles out the corner of his mouth.

The Orc moves to cradle him in his arms. A bolt was sticking out of his back, he snaps it off in anger and looks up. A boy? Bright large smiling teeth as the golden spire wasn’t bright enough to reflect the moon anymore. His face lit up by the flames as he darts away.

‘’If anyone can hear us! Come out to the main door! We’ll help!’ A loud voice shouted out.

He panicked, he dropped Father Julian and clumsily rolled out of the window, chasing after the boy. He ran and ran. But only found himself out in the streets, he then noticed everyone was looking at him. His hands were on fire. He kept running.

The Half Elf looked up as he smashed his fist against the floor, holding the potion from his Shade fuelled hallucination. At least that was real. Packing up, time for the smile.

He practiced smiling. ‘Hello, my name is Alfyn and I’m an Alchemist.’ He said to himself just as a hulking Orc turns into the alley, and immediately collapses. He moves over, pokes him with his walking stick. Hands are warm, eyes are wide. He kneels down, no immediate signs of physical injury. White burnt robes, the hint of smoke. He looks at his potion, shrugs, and starts pouring it into the Orc’s mouth.

*Two Weeks later.*

‘Over here?’ The Half Elf nods as the orc carries a heavy crate of supplies down into the Cellar Garden. ‘Thank ye, it would have taken me three trips to get all of that down here.’

‘How do you afford all of this stuff anyways? I don’t see you taking money from the hurt people. You are a good man mister.’ The Orc says as he wipes his brow.

Alfyn moves to his desk as he shoves a box of Shade Root with his foot. ‘I hope so.’

Lifting up a letter with the seal of a diving dragon, and tucking it into his clothes.