The Gems of Raga-Tor (Elemental Legends Book 1) (51 page)

“I can’t stand here and let this happen.”

“Yes, you can.”

“But…”
He was at a loss for words. There were too many emotions, too many ideas that no matter how bold, all ended with them back in captivity.

“The world isn’t ready to change. In a way, it can’t change. The work has to be done and it’s just a matter of who does it. Men won’t pay a wage for what they can force out of another for table scraps and a length of cloth from time to time.”

“But they had their own lives, their hopes, maybe even a dream for—”

“Stop, Eris, let it be. As terrible as this is, it serves to show that you have grown that much more into a man of honor, a man of conscience. When you’re older, when perhaps you’ve achieved some prominence in the world, then you can attempt change. Until then, you’re only a small step above them, and your life forfeit for your trouble, because greed and money always defeats compassion. Always.”

Eris let his shoulders droop as he watched the two groups disappear into the alley across the pristine street. The dark and cruel nature of the city, of men, had to keep the nameless bodies working, the machines turning and hidden so that the façade of all that was beautiful could continue to exist without guilt.

“Go on,”
Raga urged, his voice growing a degree fainter.

“Why can’t I hear you?”

“You know why. Now, go enjoy yourself as young men do in the prime of their lives and leave an old sorcerer to make up for some of the wrongs he’s done.”

“Thank you, my friend.”

But there was no response and Eris shivered knowing that Raga had crossed the threshold into Riza’s Seven Hells. In spite of himself, he smiled and wondered which of them would find true hell in each other’s company. His smile widened when he imagined Riza wishing he could send the chatty sorcerer back to the mortal realm after only a week or so.

He took a deep breath and turned from watching the last of the guards disappear into the ally. In this instance, he knew Raga was right, but there was no comfort in that.

Nearing the place he sought, Eris pushed the cloak’s fabric back from his left shoulder so that the doorman saw clearly the hilt of the Tamori sword. He took a gold coin from his pouch and placed it discretely into the man’s hand. The door swung open and the smell of roasting meat and perfume greeted him rather than the smell of stale malt and dirty bodies.

He quickly scanned the room, spotted an empty table and went toward it. He didn’t meet the gaze of those he passed knowing it was bad form to make eye contact in a place where discretion was of utmost importance. He sat down and shrugged off the cloak. His white shirt pulled snugly across his shoulders and his long, raven hair fell in a wavy pattern just below his shoulders.

Before he could ask, a silver cup filled to the brim with ruby-red wine was put before him. It wasn’t as fragrant as Morengoth’s or Raga’s, but it would do. His eyes scanned the room discretely as he held the cup to his mouth and drank down its contents.

It amused him to see the primped and perfumed men of the city, who showed their prowess with wealth rather than steel, squirm self-consciously under the ministrations and whispered propositions of the women moving through the room. Arrayed in a riot of color, gold and glittering gems, the women proved the truth in the rumors that untold beauty moved between the walls of this place. Each was more beautiful than the next and their gossamer veils barely hid the supple curves of their slender bodies. With gentle caresses and whispered promises, they prodded the men into spending their gold liberally.

When Eris lowered his cup and looked up, he saw a raven-haired woman making her way purposely toward him. She was slim of waist and her breasts were barely concealed by bands of red and gold silk. Tiny bells tinkled on her swaying hips. Golden bangles glittered on her wrists and ankles.

“I’ve never seen you before,” she said in a dusky voice as she took the cup from him and set it on the table.

“I’ve been away on business,” Eris answered and wondered if some god was still playing tricks on him as a pale shadow of Erisa swayed in front of him.

When she put her hands on his broad shoulders and slid down next to him, he noticed that she smelled of jasmine not orange blossom. When he grabbed her hand that was deftly reaching around him to assess the heaviness of his money pouch, he decided that all was as it should be.

“Won’t you share some of this with me?” she asked, lowering her eyes when he let her go and her fingers continued their downward drift.

“It depends,” he answered, raising her face with a touch of his finger to her chin. He looked into her pale-green eyes that were heavily shadowed and lined. Her full, red lips glistened and pouted at him. The eyes were neither so green, nor the skin so fair as once he’d known, but they were enough. She was enough to stir the blood silenced for so long.

“Depends on what?” she asked as her fingers reached out and twined through his hair.

Eris turned slightly toward her and her hidden hand pressed and nestled him discreetly. He traced the side of her face with his finger and gave a little smile as he assessed the possibilities. She sighed as his fingers gently touched the side of her neck and traced the line of her necklace that ended between her breasts. The curse failed to produce the appalling change and he gave way to the raging desire within.

The End

If you’ve enjoyed this book, you can find others by CA Morgan
here
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CA Morgan is a writer of fantasy, sword and sorcery and steampunk, whose works have previously appeared in short story anthologies and role-playing gaming books. A former technical writer and editor, days are now spent weaving tales of myth, magic and adventure of all types, while being kept in a secluded castle room under the watchful eyes of dragons that prevent her from straying too far from the keyboard. She often dreams of escaping the arid deserts of Arizona for the mists of the Scottish Highlands… but, there are those dragons…

Acknowledgements: I would like to thank Kat Riegel for reading this manuscript at least two dozen times over the course of many years. Sometimes looking for errors, sometimes when, as she said, she had nothing to read and the tale of Eris and Raga called to her from the shelf. Also to LD Anderson and Ingrid Foster for their encouragement and input. And finally, to Stephen del Mar, who insisted that this tale be published at the end of our writer’s retreat—thanks for the nudges and the push off the cliff…it was time.

Copyright 2015 by Toughnut Press

No part of this book may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews. Request for permissions should be address to the publisher.

Toughnut Press, P. O. Box 103, Sahuarita, AZ 85729

Cover Illustration: Nathie Block,
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