Awakening Read online

  Immediately I felt a warmth coursing through my body and into my arm. Marco was holding the bottle at arm’s length with his nose wrinkled as he carefully allowed some drops to fall onto the open cuts. More warmth as the Cure all hit my skin, then the bleeding stopped.

  Marco blinked in surprise, his brown eyes showing disbelief and he looked at the bottle theatrically.

  “I should use this for everything!” he exclaimed.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I sighed. This wasn’t new to me and now we were wasting time, “bandages please Dr Monzetti.”

  Now there wasn’t any blood oozing out of my arm, Marco worked swiftly. He placed large gauzes over the cuts and stuck them down with the white tape in the first aid kit. Then he wrapped a bandage up and down my arm. I was sure he was secretly relishing playing doctor and this might get added to his CV. Once he was done, he surveyed my bruised face and the scrape down my leg.

  I gestured for him to hand me the bottle and using a spare bandage, I soaked some of the Cure All onto it before wiping it over both. It didn’t do much other than take the pain away, but that was enough.

  Now I wasn’t bleeding or in as much pain, I pulled the leaf I had found from my pocket.

  “Have you seen this before?” I asked him, dangling it from its purple braid.

  “No. Where did you find it?” He took it from me and studied it closely.

  “In Aloora’s room.” His face screwed up as if he was trying to remember something.

  “It is not hers,” Marco said finally. His eyes widened again in what seemed to be his favourite expression this evening, “do you think whoever was in her room dropped it?”

  “It seems that way,” I hesitated before deciding to share what I knew with him. After all it wasn’t much. “It’s elvish and magical.”

  He handed it back to me quickly as if it might burn him. Then his face softened.

  “Shall I take you to the hospital?” he asked. I tilted my head, considering. Marco was one of the few people I knew with a car in the city but now the Cure All had salved the worst of my wounds, I was keen to continue my search for Aloora. There was one bar in the city where someone might know the owner of the pendant and that was where I was going. Marco wouldn’t be happy going to an all magical bar and I didn’t want to have to worry about him all night.

  “No, just call me a taxi, will you?” I replied.

  He called a taxi and then poured me a glass of water while we waited. He waved me out when it arrived, taking care to lock the front door as I stepped into the back seat of the grey taxi. The driver looked at me nervously, noting the bandage and the rip in my trousers.

  “Where to?” he asked, already pulling away from the kerb. I gave him the name of the road closest to the Royal Arcade entrance and sat back. It was tempting to shut my eyes for a moment and I forced myself to keep them open and watch the houses turn to shop fronts as we headed back towards the city centre.

  Chapter 5

  I paid the driver and walked towards the Royal Arcade entrance. The bright red plasterwork and white window surrounds were reflected in the orange street lights. The curved metal sign pronouncing this was Royal Arcade gleamed familiarly in the lamplight. I started unlocking the Arcade entrance on St Mary’s street before he pulled away. The rain had stopped for now and the wind still bit hard as I rushed in and relocked the gate.

  I made my way along the tiled floor, my footsteps echoing loudly in the silent Arcade. Normally I liked being alone here but today I was nervous and the echoes sounded uncomfortably like I was being followed.

  I unlocked my shop, pulling the shutters up and opening the door cautiously. I heard something slither across the wooden floor boards and tensed before Errol came into view. I turned on the light, allowed myself to breathe again and firmly locked back up.

  Errol sniffed me enthusiastically and I reached down and caressed his head. “You can smell those nasty wyrms can’t you boy?”

  I dropped my coat and he sniffed that too before dragging it back into his forge. I started to protest before giving up and letting him take it. Clearly he’d decided it would make a good cushion and it wasn’t like I could wear it again with a massive tear in it from the wyrm attack. At least it would get some use.

  I made my way up the creaky wooden steps to my flat above the shop. Flat was an aspirational word to describe my one room living area that comprised a small kitchen, double bed, small sofa, an old table with a tv and my laptop balanced on it and the cupboard that was my shower and bathroom.

  Technically I shouldn’t be living there, but it saved on rent and the owner of the Arcade turned a blind eye after I had solved a large rat problem for him and an even larger kobold problem with some of my dwarf friends.

  I debated having a shower now, longing for hot water to massage my muscles. The digital clock on my small bedside table flashed 22:00. It felt a lot later. I decided that Aloora was more important than a shower and contented myself with a flannel wash before changing. I was quick but careful with the purple flannel as I washed around the graze on my leg and the bruises around my middle where I had hit the tarmac.

  I threw the ripped leggings and corset top onto my single sage green second-hand armchair that I had bought for a bargain at a discount shop and then had been charged a small fortune for delivery and moving the heavy chair up the narrow stairs.

  I picked my outfit carefully, biting my bottom lip as I considered my wardrobe. I had only been to The Goat a handful of times but the clientele were mostly magical and I wanted to both avoid unwanted attention and secure help in identifying the pendant and its owner if possible.

  I decided against one of my corset tops and opted instead for sensible underwear that gave me support in case I had to flee from rogue wyrms again. Being blessed, or as I sometimes felt, cursed with large breasts, this meant a bra that was more a feat of engineering than elegant underwear underneath a v neck green jumper that would keep out the cold.

  I opted for smart black jeans and kept my thick leather boots. I made a note to thank the owner of the gothic shoe shop I found them in, they had saved my feet from hungry wyrms and were still able to be worn. I dug out my thick brown sheepskin jacket, a maroon woollen scarf and matching gloves to protect me against the cold.

  On an impulse, I grabbed my jewelling goggles and put them on. I stared at the pendant. It glowed slightly with a soft, whiteish green glow, confirming my first thoughts that it was enchanted with elven magic. I didn’t know enough about elven magic to guess at what it was enchanted to do and stuffed it securely into my pocket. I pushed the goggles on top of my head, grabbed my phone and a packet of crisps and stomped back downstairs.

  I hesitated then reached behind the counter where I had stashed Bane and grabbed it. The Goat wasn’t always friendly and I was going late on a Friday night. I hooked it onto my thick belt under my jacket. I didn’t normally go out armed, but the axe’s weight against my leg as I walked felt oddly comforting.

  Errol was sat by the door, his pointed tail curled around his feet. He looked up at me expectantly.

  “Go back to bed boy. You can’t come tonight.”

  He didn’t move and kept looking at me as I began to unlock the door. I thought about the bar I was going to. They let well behaved pets in from what I could remember and maybe Errol would offer me some protection if things got rough or if I was chased by strays again.

  “Alright, come on then,” I gave in and allowed him to climb up my uninjured arm and settle around my neck. His scales were smooth and warm and he draped himself over my shoulders in his favourite pose as I locked up again and left the arcade.

  ***

  Errol steamed slightly in the light rain as I approached The Goat. It was a welcome refuge for magical beings who were tolerated in everyday life and every so often needed a place to let it all hang loose without fear of the Magical Liaison Office being called up.

  It touted itself as an original medieval building in the city centre and black beams lay wo
nkily against white lime plaster. An eerie picture of a white goat with large horns stretching up was painted on a sign sticking out at an angle above the closed, heavy wooden door peppered with metal studs and a grill over a peep hole three quarters of the way up. The hole wasn’t usually in use and was more for the legendary lock-ins held at the pub or, if the rumours were true, for less wholesome activities conducted out of hours.

  I pulled my goggles down over my eyes and blinked as my sight adjusted through the tinted brown lenses. The Goat seemed to shimmer with light of every colour as my goggles allowed me to see the auras of magic within it. From the many different colours now visible, I ascertained there were magical beings of all types in there. Slimy green, indicating goblins by the window, a couple of blue auras for trolls and orange for orcs. There were even a number of red dwarven auras and one forest green elf aura inside.

  I already knew that there would be magical beings inside so that wasn’t new information. I pushed my goggles up onto my head again and straightened my back, trying to exude confidence as I strode to the door.

  I grabbed the round iron handle and tugged. Nothing happened. I tried again, harder this time and Errol snorted unhappily as the effort dislodged him from his comfy spot around my neck. I sensed someone approach from behind me and turned in time to see a half-orc reaching past me.

  “It’s push, love,” He sneered condescendingly as he gave the door a shove and barged past into the pub.

  I glared at his back then followed him in to calls of “Close the door! It’s freezing out there!” I shoved the door shut and faced the room.

  The bar was set to one side, an orc bartender working alongside a troll to dispense drinks. The lighting was muted in deference to those clients who preferred the darkness and I spied a group of goblins in the corner by the window drinking a black drink and chattering. It sounded like they were arguing but their language was quite aggressive anyway and for all I knew they could have been celebrating someone’s birthday.

  The walls were maroon and dotted with framed photographs or posters of famous magical beings, often signed. I spotted one of the gorgeous elvish singer Cirian and found it hard to picture him slumming it in this bar when he wasn’t touring.

  A familiar font in the picture next to it caught my eye and I recognised a small, green bottle on a faded picture with Madam Mim’s Cure All written on it. The attractive lady in the picture seemed to twinkle and the handwritten message marked the owner as a “dear friend”. I sent her a silent thank you for the miracle Cure All I’d used earlier and was suddenly accosted by a hearty slap on the back.

  “Ame, my best customer! Let me buy you a drink,” I looked down into the ever optimistic smiling face of Gunther, my main supplier and one of my Dad’s friends. He was able to get any gems or metal I wanted in any quantity and was perpetually pleased to see me every time we met, although I suspected this would be the case for any of his customers.

  I smiled back as he manoeuvred us past two half-orcs sitting at a small table, swigging brown drinks that looked a lot like muddy water. One of them was the male who had pushed past me to get in and he gave me a smirk as I was ushered past.

  Gunther had a large square table at the back of the pub with two other dwarves I hadn’t met before. They all nodded greetings as Gunther introduced me, adding “It’s unusual to see you here. Mead is it?”

  Despite being four foot tall, he managed to catch the bartender’s eye from the table and indicated another round as I undid my jacket but kept it on, I wasn’t planning on being here long. He must be a good customer because the troll immediately poured four flagons of mead and brought them over.

  “Thanks Goat,” said Gunther as the troll put the drinks on the table. I looked up, curious about the owner of the establishment, and Goat grunted before shuffling back to the bar.

  I sipped my drink, and longed for a mug of syrupy coffee from my favourite coffee shop, the Dragon’s Head, and maybe one of their brownies. I tried to enjoy the honey flavour that warmed me as I brought my attention back to Gunther.

  “So, what are you doing in this neck of the woods?”

  “I thought Aloora might be here. I can’t find her,” I was too blunt, but I wanted to get to the heart of the matter quickly. Gunther might be able to help and if I didn’t focus the conversation, he might start reminiscing about Dad and one of their adolescent escapades.

  “Aloora? The gnome on the internet? You know her?” Gunther’s companion, Mats was suddenly interested. “Is she single?”

  “Erm, yes but she’s missing. Her room was ransacked and I found this, do you know who might have made it?” I pulled the pendant out of my pocket and placed it carefully on the table.

  Silence fell at our table as the three dwarves looked at it carefully. Gunther pulled out an eyeglass, a jeweller’s loupe, from one of his many pockets and bent over, studying it closely. He sucked in a breath.

  “It’s elven, of course,” I nodded as he looked up at me, “and that’s a pure diamond set into it,” again I nodded, I’d suspected as much. “It’s enchanted too.”

  “Do you know what kind?” I interrupted.

  “Hmmm, I don’t know much about elven magic, but it could be a luck enchantment.”

  “Or love,” Mats chimed in, “This is an expensive piece, even if it is steel, perhaps a romantic gift to sweeten someone.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively as he took a drink.

  “Do you know who made it?” I asked him.

  “There’s a few elf jewellers in Britain. Elves normally prefer ivy and maple, they’re big on the three parts of a leaf, but that’s an oak leaf. Not a traditional design I would say… There’s only one shop selling this quality of elven jewellery in Cardiff though,” he added as I was about to interrupt again, “Ambrin’s, in the Mall.”

  I had frequently passed Ambrin’s when I walked through the Mall. It had a curved wooden sign and inside was polished wood and minimalist displays of select pieces hung on decorative branches. It was very expensive and definitely not my competition in the magical jewellery market.

  As I mused over my next move, I was conscious that someone was standing behind me.

  “Where did you get that?” asked a voice, trembling with emotion. I turned, ready to tell the newcomer to mind his own business. My eyes travelled up and up, taking in ripped jeans, the familiar sword on a thick leather belt, a dark green shirt and finally meeting his green eyes. It was the elf that had been in my shop only a few hours ago. I groaned inwardly.

  “At my friend’s house, she’s gone missing,” I replied curtly. Then I saw the anguish in his eyes behind his elven glamour and my voice softened. “Do you recognise it?”

  He reached out a golden hand with long fingers as if to take it. I was still wary, despite the twinge of sympathy that I had felt and pushed my jacket aside to show my axe. I was aware of chairs scraping back and metallic chinks as the three dwarves at the table stood too. The elf thought better of taking it. He met my eyes.

  “I think it belongs to my friend. May I?”

  I narrowed my eyes, considering, then nodded and handed it to him. His hands were cool against my sweaty palms. I was aware of the heat of the pub making me sticky under my coat.

  He lifted it to the fake candle set into a replica wrought iron sconce on the wall. The Goat really went in for olde worlde ambiance, as if that was what magical beings wanted, more stereotypes, but the pub seemed to do well enough so what did I know.

  He said a word in Elvish and the pendant glowed a faint white-green colour. He put it flat on his palm and it moved, pointing towards the centre of the city. He turned, looking in the direction it pointed as if he could see through the thick walls of the pub. As he took a step towards the door, I grabbed the back of his shirt, still hanging loose though the front was neatly tucked in.

  “Uh, where do you think you’re going with that?” I laced my voice with sarcasm and disbelief at his arrogance.

  He almost glared at me. “To fin
d my friend.”

  I shook my head and put my free hand on my axe. “Oh no. You’re going to tell me what you did to that pendant.”

  He did glare at me then, and I felt a crackle of power. If it was meant to intimidate me, it failed. The dwarves moved to surround him, less subtle than I was, they had their weapons already in their hands. He noticed them and his look became almost calculating, I could see him deciding if he could take them all out and make it out of The Goat before a fight started. He shrugged, seemingly deciding that the odds were against him and then he spoke directly to me.

  “Please, she might be in danger,” he pleaded.

  I felt that pang of sympathy again, but judging by the state of her room, Aloora was in danger and his friend was mixed up in it.

  “So is my friend. Aloora. If that thing is somehow showing you where your friend is, I’m coming too,” I stated simply, meeting his stare with an earnest gaze.

  He nodded then gestured at my friends impatiently. “Can we leave now?”

  Gunther looked at me. “Want us to come with you lass?” he asked in Dwarfish, shooting the elf a nasty look.

  “No, I’ll be fine,” I replied with more confidence than I felt. “You stay here and I’ll call if I get in trouble.”

  Gunther didn’t look like he wanted to stay, but I had his number from our frequent business transactions. He opened his mouth to argue, then shook his head as if he thought better of it.

  “You’re stubborn, like your father,” he said, then smiled, “Take this,” he fished in his pocket and then pulled out a keyring. He leant towards me and pressed it into my hand that was still grabbing my axe. This meant his hand was inside my coat, as if he didn’t want the elf to see it. “It’s a charm for resistance to elvish glamour and illusion magic,” he whispered, his breath hot on my ear.

  “Thank you,” I said as he leaned back and nodded to his friends. I meant it, Gunther was always able to get rare items, and I was sure this would be both valuable and effective. It might have been my imagination but the elven glamour that made them seem attractive and unattainable to other beings seemed to fade as soon as the keyring was in my possession. Annoyingly, he was still incredibly handsome even without the glamour surrounding him.