It was dark. Again. He moved his limbs, and he felt his surroundings, finding himself laying in a box carved from stone. He pressed against the surface before him, the linen wrappings around him unraveling as he pushed, and the stone slid to the side, then fell away with a crash. He sat up, and looked around him.
“Greetings, Revenant of Bel’Tasq,” said a voice behind him. He spun and saw a form clothed in layers of gray and rotting rags standing next to his sarcophagus. It had the voice of an old woman, and her face was covered with a gray veil. A Watcher, disciple of the Weaver of Fate.
He blinked in the torchlight, then stared at his leathery, linen-wrapped hands. He took a deep breath, and spoke, dust spewing from his lips.
“Where am I?” asked the Bel’Tasq.
“The Bel’Tasq ancestral crypt. You’ve been dead for over half a millennia.”
Bel’Tasq fingered the gaping wound at his collar bone, where the sword had plunged years before. He climbed out of his sarcophagus.
“Where is Illannis Revlin?” he asked, setting one linen-wrapped foot on the stone floor.
“I do not know, Revenant,” said the Watcher, “The Weaver of Fate deigned only to reveal your resting place. Nothing more.”
The revenant drew himself up to his full height, looming over the old woman. He did not remember being this tall before. He tried to remember other things, mountains… rivers…
“Where is the Celes river?” He asked.
“Far to the west of here. Much has changed since your internment.”
The revenant nodded, then glanced at the stone lid which had entombed him. It had cracked and partially shattered when it landed on the floor, but he could see that his name was chiseled off. His eyes were drawn to the faceless Watcher again.
“Where is my armor?” he asked.
---
Illannis gripped her sword tightly, her leather gloves murmuring against the hilt of her blade. She took a deep breath, listening to the laughter and clatter from the open windows, and entered the seedy and ramshackle inn before her.
“Banbrig!” roared the troll at the other end of the room. He was dressed head to toe in silk, purples and reds embroidered and inset with hammered glass that shimmered as he moved. His twisted horns scraped the ceiling as he greeted her, and his long and bulky arms were spread wide. The assorted men and women, goblins, and ogres, and trolls, had stopped to watch Illannis enter, and many were laughing behind their hands.
Illannis swept her cloak aside, her hand openly placed upon her sword, and strode in, chin lifted, her eyes resting on the troll alone.
“Greetings, Roder,” said she, half-way across the room now. “I have come to collect my payment.”
“Ahh but you have already collected it!” said the troll, his mouth spreading into a wide grin. “You are now a member of our most noble order—“ many laughed at this comment, and Roder gestured genially for quiet, “and have been granted free entrance to our meager establishment, and free audience to our most august court!” More laughter followed.
Illannis shook her head. “That was not our agreement,” she said. “I do not wish for membership. Just the payment I was promised and then I will leave your august presence.” The laughter began to die down. The troll remained unfazed.
“Ahhh, but why the rush? Stay here a while! You may come to like it!”
She swept off her cap and rendered the most polite bow and smile she could muster. “If it would pardon your eminence, but I would not wish to strain your noble personage with yet another mouth to feed and manage. Just the gold, and I’ll be on my way.”
“Well by golly gosh, aren’t you persistent?” said the troll. “Well, unfortunately, most of my capital is tied up in many lucrative, and, dare I say, expensive affairs. It may take a while for me to liquidate enough assets to accommodate your request.” He turned to the crowd. “What say, two, three weeks?” The sniggers were quite loud in the crowded, smoky room.
She replaced her cap, her eyes glancing about the interior of the inn. “I had hoped that I could depart tonight with the earnings of my labors, Roder. Certainly, a person of your repute could easily establish a line of credit?”
The silence and stillness that enveloped the room then was sudden and swift. Roder’s smile was plastered to his wide and toothy jaws.
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