Private Tales Wildfire

[Esper]

The blackened gravel of Sheketh crunched under her small, hurried steps, each jolt sending a sharp ache through the cuff at her wrist. Iron. A cruel thing to a fae.

Esper’s gaze stayed fixed on the ground, dark volcanic dust and jagged rock reflecting none of the warmth she craved. Her fire, her life had been dimmed for weeks, first by the iron shackles, then by the long, wet voyage across the sea. Though she was finally on solid ground, she still felt its lingering chill coursing through her veins, her body weakened by it almost as much as the metal stealing her power and energy.

Beside her, Malephis moved with unnerving ease, hurrying her along. His long coat brushed over the uneven terrain, the curl of his horns casting twisted shadows across the jagged landscape. His purple skin seemed almost to drink in the muted sunlight, glinting like molten stone, and Esper forced herself not to flinch at his looming presence.

They stopped before a smiths, the one he'd been looking for, and the devil grinned, jagged teeth glinting in the forge light. He pulled her close to him, hand gripping her chin and dragging her lightless eyes to meet his.. "Here we are, my pet. We'll have some new jewellery for you soon enough.." he winked, and shoved her inside.

 

[Gerra]

To name it anything but a hut would be generous. A hut far from civilization, on a cliff by the sea, near to the volcano that dominated the tiny island off the coast of Sheketh proper.

Gerra seldom received visitors. And those he did seemed obsessed with either murdering him or forming a cult around him. They’d all left, either dead or fled. And he no longer cared. His illusion, his idyll, was dispelled at last. And he cursed all the gods of Arethil for it. Would that he could but walk into the ocean and forget existence. Yet he did not. Oft he’d stood on the cliff’s edge, looking down, upon Nym’s departure.

Thinking.

Wondering.

Not so far down. He’d die on impact.

Just a step and the torment of this life would be over.

But he had no stomach for it.

He had not shaved nor washed nor done anything but drink the fermented milk of goats for days. So when he answered the door of his hut and saw them standing there, he did but scowl and look passing rough.

“Yes? Why have you darkened my door, devil?”

He glowered, uncaring of the demon which stood before him and likewise of the demon’s companion. No, slave. He saw it in the movements and their stance. She was a thing of enchanting beauty. And for that she would be kept in a cage for enjoyment. Better if she’d been born ugly and malformed.

He who had stood face to face with the father of dragons feared not the wrath of some misbegotten demon.

“Speak.”

 

[Esper]

Malephis’ black eyes went wide as he craned his neck back, horns brushing against his shoulders to take in the sheer size of the figure before him. A slow, crooked grin split across his face, wide and wolfish, and altogether too pleased.

“Fuck me sideways,” he drawled, scratching idly at the stubble on his chin. “You’re gargantuan.” A low chuckle followed, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He cast a look around at the barren expanse of rock and ash, the thin, acrid air shivering with heat. “Your services, friend, what else would drag anyone out to this gods-forsaken slag heap?” he said, half smiling, half snarling. “Heard you can weave a bit of magic into metal. I name the job, you take [payment, simple enough arrangement, aye?”

With a tug of the chain, he drew Esper closer, his tone turning almost playful as the giant’s molten gaze fell upon her. “Pretty little thing, isn’t she?” he mused, thumb brushing the iron that burned into her wrist. “My pet.”

Esper barely heard him. Her eyes, wide and glistening, were fixed on the half giant. The air around him rippled with heat, alive and intoxicating. The scent of smoke, the faint shimmer of flame beneath his skin, it all called to her. Fire recognised fire. She swayed toward him instinctively, caught in the pull, until Malephis yanked hard on her chain.

She stumbled into his side, the motion clumsy and human, the small hiss that left her lips anything but.

 

[Gerra]

Eyes like twin cinders moved from the demon to his... pet. Gerra regarded her, her chain, and the hiss which didst leave her lips upon her stumble. Not a willing pet, then. Hmm. She was beautiful and fae. But were not all fae beautiful? Gerra clenched his jaw.

"She is adequate."

There was a time when he might have bashed the devil's brains in for speaking to him so and taken the fae as his own, telling himself that he had freed her of her chains only to bind her with new ones unseen.

Now he was just a blacksmith. And blacksmiths did not stove in the faces of customers. Why should he care about her plight? All was ash now. This life. This existence. At least a new job gave him something to do.

"What you have heard is true. Tell me what it is you need forged."

Esper

 

[Esper]

Esper’s head lifted at the word adequate. The faintest flicker passed through her eyes, hurt first, then pride, then something sharp and dangerous. Her kind were not made to be measured, not by mortal tongue nor demon’s whim.

Fire trembled beneath her skin, just enough to shimmer in the air about her. The movement was subtle, but the heat of it was not; the faint scent of smoke drifted between them. She tilted her chin upward, golden eyes locking on the half-giant.

“‘Adequate', am I?” The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them, her voice soft and melodic, each syllable lilting like a song. Her accent carried the rhythm of the Fae courts, that haunting blend of silk and steel. “And what are you?” she asked scornfully, looking him over.

Malephis’s hand moved so quickly it barely made a sound. The chain snapped taut, yanking her back against him.

“That tongue of yours,” he hissed close to her ear, his grin tight, “is going to get you burned, little spark. Be silent.”

Esper’s lips pressed together, but her eyes remained fixed on the giant like kindled embers. For all her obedience, she did not bow.

Malephis turned his attention back to Gerra as though nothing had happened, all easy grin and charm once more. “You’ll have to forgive her,” he said smoothly. “Pride’s bred deep in these creatures.”

He reached into his coat, producing two small glass bottles. One held a dark, thick fluid, the other shimmered with golden light, alive and pulsing with the faint thrum of magic. He held them up between thumb and forefinger, admiring the contrast.

“I won her power fair and square,” he said, teeth flashing in a grin. “All that’s left is to bind it to me. I came prepared.”

Behind him, Esper’s hand curled into a fist, the skin of her palm still raw where the wound had only just begun to knit closed.

 

[Gerra]

“I am just a blacksmith,” rumbled the half-giant.

He spared the fae only a look, not of sorrow or even pity - he thought he might have run out of such things - but of resignation. Perhaps better for her to simply kill herself and spare the torment.

But the fae were indeed proud creatures, like himself. Once. In past years he might have met fire with fire and told her that he was the emperor of Amol-Kalit, vanquisher of Drakormir, son of Menalus the Ash King and the goddess of the harvest. But his mother no longer spoke to him. And so he could not but curse both their names. He was no more the conqueror of empires. He was a specter of a man, eking out existence at the edge of the world because what came after this life frightened him.

So many crimes he might be called to answer for. So many angry souls.

Gerra looked past both of them and at the blue of the sky. Quite blue today indeed.

“Very well, I see you have all the ingredients… what price do you offer for my services?” He said it as if they were conducting a simple market transaction and not preparing to seal a fae into a life of servitude.

Esper

 

[Esper]

“Whatever price he names, it’ll never be enough for what you’re taking.." she whispered, her lilting accent threaded with restrained fury. She didn’t raise her head, yet every word trembled with contained fire, like a coal smouldering beneath ash.

Malephis’s fingers twitched against the chain, and a cruel smile tugged at his lips.

“You see what I mean?” he said, his tone light but edged like a blade. “No discipline..”

He gave the chain a sharp tug, jerking her closer and twisting her arm. He grinned wider, showing teeth that caught the forge light like polished obsidian.

“She’s spirited,” he went on, “I like that in a weapon. You’ll see why I want her bound properly, giant. Power like hers, wild and molten-” he snapped his fingers, and a faint flicker of flame ignited on his fingertips before he extinguished it in his fist “ - needs a firm hand.”

“As for price…” He looked up, grin still fixed but eyes sharp. “Name it. Coin, favour, blood... I'll even let you have a go with her before we leave." he offered with a wink.

Esper’s lips parted as though to speak again, but she stopped herself. Her eyes fixed on the fire giant with something fierce and pleading beneath the anger.

 

[Gerra]

“This is not a simple task,” Gerra mused, scratching his chin and avoiding the accusation in those eyes of hers.

He ignored the devil’s remarks about bridling her. He had encountered such petty villainy time and again. The devil enjoyed exerting control over a powerful fae woman. The more she struggled, the more he enjoyed it. Gerra would say he did not understand the appeal, and yet….

There had been a time.

The half-giant felt the weight of the mountains on his shoulders. Try as he might, nothing would lift the curse of the Herald.

The form of payment mattered little to Gerra. He would find no enjoyment from it. Not in the taste of the finest wine or food. It would all be as ash in his mouth. But the task would distract him from the futility of existence and the ghosts of his failures.

“Two thousand Allirian gold pieces.”

A ducal sum, but not enough to bankrupt the devil.

“It will not be an overnight task. And I do not have room in my hut for all of you.”

Esper

 

[Esper]

Malephis' laughter was sharp and arrogant. “Two thousand, eh?” he echoed with a grin.

He reached into the inner pocket of his long coat and withdrew a velvet pouch, rich black and flecked with salt from sea air. With a lazy flick of his wrist, he tossed it toward the giant.

“I don’t carry that kind of coin, being that I'm not a fucking bank,” he said, tone dripping with mockery. “But that,” he gestured toward the pouch, “is worth a good deal more. Emeralds, sapphires, diamonds. Took them off a collector in Elbion who was very attached to his throat.” A few dark flecks of dried blood still marred the gemstones’ gleam.

Malephis’s grin widened, revealing a flash of teeth. “If you it faster, the lot is yours. A craftsman like you must appreciate incentive.." he arched a dark brow. He hadn't slept in weeks, keeping his eye on her lest she try to run or smash his skull in, and so he was in a hurry.

He stepped back slightly, his grip still tight on Esper’s chain, and she grimaced at the movement, looking about ready to fall where she stood. "And we want to get this iron off of you, don't we, spark?" he asked, and looked back to Gerra..

 

[Gerra]

Gerra nearly caught the pouch. Nearly. He tried with his bad hand, the one missing a finger, and the pouch fumbled to the dirt. A few gemstones spilled out.

Sighing away his pride with a huff, the half-giant knelt and began picking them up methodically. His knees ached as he rose again, pouch in hand.

“Very well. I’ll accept this as payment,” he ignored the comment about the source of the blood flaking off the bag. Why engage with the demon. It would only feed his sense of the macabre. Many of Gerra’s brothers were such. And this was not the first captive fae he’d witnessed dragged around by a lusting oaf.

No.

No he had seen worse by far.

Better not to think of Molthal now.

“I’ll start working now. The forge is inside the volcano,” Gerra frowned at the pair. “You can accompany there if you wish. But don’t go inside my home.”

Gerra began picking up his tools and then the two vials, then made the trek up to his forge that sat in a cave deep within the volcano. It took an hour to reach it and he immediately set to work, pouring a rode gold mixture into the crucible and melting it down.

The demon did not want her in iron and iron was difficult to work with anything but blood magic. Gold on the other hand was a versatile base metal. More easy to incorporate other ingredients for alchemy.

Esper

 

[Esper]

“Think fast…” Malephis murmured far too late, a grin splitting across his face as the pouch hit the dirt.

He watched the half-giant stoop to gather the fallen gems, amusement glittering in his black eyes like oil on water. When Gerra finally rose and accepted the payment, Malephis’s smirk deepened, satisfied.

Esper’s jaw clenched as the decision was sealed. The chain between them rattled softly as she pulled back, the motion half a struggle, half despair.

“I am glad your pretty stones are payment enough,” she sneered under her breath. The words trembled with fury as her gaze cut toward the blacksmith. “My eternity, bought and sold by males for trinkets.” she spat.

Tears welled, but before they could fall, Malephis’ hand tangled cruelly in her hair and yanked her head back. The sound she made was sharp, animal, a hiss between pain and pride.

“Enough talking, sparky,” he growled close to her ear, breath hot. “Or I’ll ask him to make you a pretty collar to match your cuffs. Or a muzzle, how'd that be?.."

Esper went still, her breath shallow..

Satisfied, the tiefling released her and looked toward the volcano where the forge lay hidden in its glowing heart. His grin returned, wicked and thoughtful all at once.

“That where you do your work, then?” he asked, voice carrying an edge of admiration. “Hell of a view.” His gaze flicked to Esper. “You’d like it there, wouldn’t you, little flame? All that heat… all that fire.”

His hand dragged lazily across her cheek. She turned from the touch, jaw tight, and he laughed low in his throat.

“But we’ll get cosy right here,” he murmured, his tail idly curling around her waist. “Won’t we, pet?”

Esper didn’t answer, she only glared at the half-giant.

“We’ll be waiting,” Malephis added, “Don’t keep us long, smith. She’s got a temper.” he chuckled.

 

[Gerra]

It took many hours, but Gerra had finished refining the ore by sundown and mixing it with the blood. He now had two solid ingots of rose-gold infused by their blood to work with. It was a start. The half-giant made his way back from the forge, arms heavy with his exertion and smeared by the soot of his work. So too was his face, smeared with the fumes.

He hardly cared.

As he strode back down the path, the sun drooped low on the sea, casting up golden rays. Stray sheep burst out of his path.

He glowered at the pair who awaited his arrival. He hoped they didn't expect him to feed them. One, at least, had likely fed already in one fashion. His lips curled with disgust. He did not pretend that he was not above such wants or desires, but he had never found the need to force it from another. It was not something he pondered deeply as he worked today. Though when he had stared at the finished ingots he did wonder if he could bring himself to finish this job and consign her to an eternity of suffering with this devil.

Even for all the jewels of Arethil.

Gerra stormed past the two of them. "I'm going to sleep," he growled. "I will continue in the morning."

The door of his hut groaned open as he stalked inside, slamming behind him. He tossed himself upon his bed and started to pass out almost instantly.

Esper