Offering (Gore warning)

"It's done sir." The plain looking man said as he was kneeling on the polished hardwood floor.

"What's done?" The man with silver hair asked. He didn't quite remember what his servant was talking about.

"The man that was seeing Miss Clairissa, he's dead."

"Oh right, that, I'd nearly forgotten. They won't trace it back to me will they? I can't have any disruptions to my business."

"Of course not sir. I paid some beggar a few coppers to just stab the large man with a poisoned knife. The man even did me a favor and killed the beggar, so there are no loose ends." The plain man said with his head still lowered.

"And you're sure that he is dead?"

"Although I was surprised that he was still able to move after the poison entered his body, he wouldn't have been able to survive for more than an hour. I used a mixture of every available poison I could find just to make sure. Last I saw he was stumbling down the road, the guards should find him in a ditch by morning."

"You didn't follow him to make sure?"

"He was heading towards crowded streets. I didn't want to be seen by anyone, people know that I serve you sir. It wouldn't take much to connect us."

"Very well, excellent work. You are excused, I have a meeting with Baron Estebon." The man with neat silver hair waved his hand, and the plain man stood, still keeping his head lowered, and exited the room.

.................

'Bang, Bang, Bang' Clair heard a loud banging from the front door of her shop. It was in the middle of the night, well past midnight. She threw on her robe, and hurried downstairs. She thought that maybe it was Marcus, but why would he be banging on her door at this hour? She looked through the peephole and did see Marcus standing there, using his warhammer as a crutch. She hurriedly opened the door, sensing that something was wrong. When she did Marcus fell face first onto the shop floor.

It took all of his strength just to make it to Clair's shop. He could barely lift his arm to bang on her door, so when she opened it he couldn't hold himself up anymore. He fell forward, breaking his nose when his face hit the floor. He laid there, face down, unconscious.

"My Gods, Marcus, what happened? Marcus! Marcus!" Clair yelled out in a panic. This was the last thing that she was expecting to happen.

She quickly checked his breathing, it was shallow and quick. She took off his pack and inspected his body. She saw the blood that was still oozing out of his right side, and the purplish substance that stained his clothes and skin. With her experience she knew immediately what had happened. She mustered all her strength to roll Marcus onto his side. She didn't want him to asphyxiate on his vomit should he throw up.

She ran to the back storeroom and grabbed several different vials of varying color.

She hurried back to Marcus's still form and force fed him the contents of the vials. Marcus involuntarily coughed when the liquid hit his throat, but Clair rubbed his throat like you would a dog when giving him a pill. This stimulated him to swallow, soon he had ingested all the different vials. Now all Clair could do was wait, and try to keep him alive.

"Not you to Marcus, not again." Clair cried out, sitting next to Marcus, hugging her knees. A trail of tears were slowly flowing out of her eyes.

............…

It was a beautiful day out, clear blue skies were overhead, filling whoever looked up with a feeling of hope. The forest was alive, small creatures resembling squirrels were frolicking amongst the tree branches. A cry from a bird of prey sounded in the air, sending the small squirrel like creatures scampering into their hidey holes.

The next scene showed a familiar moss covered tree draping over an outcropping of stone. Like the tree died protecting the rocks from an unknown danger. There were footprints in the soft soil, some were small, like a child's. Others were oddly shaped, long and thin, with only two toes. They were deep as well, whatever made them weighing several hundred pounds.

A beautiful waterfall was cascading over a steep cliff. A rainbow adorned the falling water, like a crown of colors. On the cliff, dozens of feet in the air, was a narrow and perilous path leading behind the waterfall. As you follow the narrow path, it led to a cave.

The entrance was wide enough for two men to walk shoulder to shoulder and high enough to walk without stooping. It was well hidden, vegetation covered it like curtains of green. Along the path deeper into the cave, glowing magical stones provided dim blue light.

Water was dripping from the ceiling in several places, stalactites were reaching from the ceiling. Trying to touch the floor, slowly getting closer with time. Cave moss was growing in patches on the walls like a thin velvet coat of fur.

After several hundred feet and many twists and turns, the small path turned into a spacious chamber. The chamber was circular in shape, with a diameter of over one hundred feet. The ceiling was high enough to become lost in the darkness.

In the center of the chamber was an altar, it was waist high and carved from a stalagmite that grew from the cave floor. It was flat on top with a diameter of six feet. Strange writing was chiseled on the bed of the altar, in concentric patterns.

Standing around the altar were cloaked figures. They wore plain black robes, with hoods covering their faces. Not a patch of skin could be seen, as if they were hiding themselves out of shame for what was occurring. On the altar, chained to restrict their movement, was a child.

The child's wrists and ankles were bleeding, skin torn from struggling against the cuffs. Their clothes were soiled from dirt, sweat, and urine. The child was terrified, shaking from fear and the cold of the cave. They were crying out for their mother with a hoarse voice.

A cloaked figure took a step forward, standing out from the rest of the circle.

"Lit lethi bizenil olret miricunawen." The figure said in a beautiful voice. It was hard to tell if the voice was male or female. It had hints of both, and was soothing to listen to.

Soon, the rest of the dark figures began to speak in unison. Their voices blending together in perfect harmony, like a practiced song.

"Munsyciwen uyr uppirenzil, nokgil purthol ecni desfloawen auyr fuwirath. Gell uyr iniceisil ecni piostol un thierath plishol. Resi pruc olret obassil, hiid uyr moll ecni brenzil purthol destromteunil ecni diothol."

The voices stopped, then there was silence, all that could be heard was the drip, drip, drip of the water. Even the small child was silent, finally ceasing their unheard cries. The cloaked figures remained still, not speaking or moving.

Abruptly, the child started to strain against the chains with renewed strength. Trying to escape the pain that was suddenly racking their small frame. Their mouth open in silent agony, unable to breathe. It felt as if their insides were boiling, bubbling with heat from an unknown source. Under their clothes, their skin was tearing, long, jagged lines from their collar bone to their pubis.

As suddenly as the pain started, it ended. Not because the pain had faded, it was because the child had died. Their organs still bubbling from unnatural heat, skin tearing from the pressure. Slowly, with a shake of the child's body, a limb came from inside his chest. Sprouting out like a flower seeking the light.

The limb had three long fingers with vicious claws at the ends. Its skin had boils oozing greenish brown pus. The child's chest spread open slowly, like a gory portal from hell itself, allowing a creature into this world that did not belong.

............…..

Marcus slowly opened his eyes, his body was on fire. Every joint in his body ached, every inch of his skin itched and burned. He was already forgetting the horrific dream he had, the cave, the child, was getting replaced by the current atmosphere. There was daylight outside, at least from what he could see through an open door. He was looking up at a wooden ceiling, shelves were surrounding him. They seemed tall from his vantage point, he was laying on a down blanket that was placed on the floor.

He tried to sit up, but his body seized up in protest. His muscles felt like they were torn. His stomach was cramping, sending its signals of protest as well. His entire body felt like it had been torn apart and put back together, still healing from the process.

Grabbing onto a low shelf, Marcus tried again to pull himself into a seated position. Knocking some wooden boxes off in the process, he finally sat up. The boxes hitting the floor made a loud bang, alerting anyone with ears. Taking a deep breath, he sat still, winded from that small movement.

There was a shadow in the doorway, blocking the little sunlight there was. Standing there, with a worried face was Clair.

"You're finally awake Marcus. I was so worried for you, I didn't think that you would ever wake up!" She said as she hurried over to him, knelt down, and threw her arms around him. Marcus took in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, just the pressure put on his skin from the hug, felt like someone had put a red hot poker onto his skin.

"I'm so sorry! Are you in pain? Here, take this." Clair said as she pulled back quickly, not meaning to hurt him.

She handed him a vial of brown viscous liquid. Marcus slowly popped the cork out of the vial, it smelled like medicine, so he tipped the vial upside down and drained its contents. Soon, a warm feeling washed over him, not killing the pain, but dulling it down into a tolerable level.

"Better?"

Marcus nodded his head, slowly he opened his mouth to speak.

"How... long…. Was I out?" He said in a deep croaky voice. His vocal cords were dry and stiff from not being used.

"Two weeks, the first week I didn't know if you would make it. The seventh day is when you finally stabilized." She said slowly, unsure of how to tell him that he'd been out that long. Just deciding to be blunt.

Marcus didn't say anything, just let out a sigh.

"Why am I in your storeroom?"

"It's all I could do to drag you back here. There was no way I could get you upstairs."

"Thank you for saving my life, I didn't know if I was going to make it to you." He said with gratitude, knowing that she had done a lot for him these two weeks. Changing his bandages, feeding him water, cleaning up after him, even unconscious your body still functions.

"What happened to you Marcus?" She said with concern, getting on her knees and using a damp cloth to wipe away a little sweat from his brow.

"After we got back from our mission, I went out drinking with some of the other mercenaries. When I left the bar, some beggar came from behind and stabbed me. The rest you know about." Marcus explained, there really wasn't much to the story. He still left out Samantha, no reason to bring that up.

"I'm sorry, this is all my fault. I should have never gotten involved with you." She said as she started to cry, turning her head downwards, avoiding eye contact.

"When my husband died I always had my suspicions. He was always so careful when picking herbs. Always took an escort, always careful. Then one day he just disappears, no trace of him or his escort. Now you get stabbed and poisoned, by all rights you should be dead as well. I'd never seen so many poisons in one place, let alone used on one person." She continued, sobbing in between words.

Marcus put his index finger under her chin, lifting her eyes to his.

"It isn't your fault, it was whoever stabbed me. I chose to be with you as well, remember? When I recover, I'll make sure that this never happens again." Marcus said with conviction, he was going to make pay whoever concocted this scheme.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together. It was most likely one of the merchants that were trying to woo Clair. He was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

Sniffling, Clair nodded her head.

"Can you walk?"

"I think so, just give me a couple of minutes."

"Ok, when you're ready we'll try to get you up the stairs and into a proper bed. You still need to recover." Clair said as she reached out her hand, helping Marcus stand.

Slowly and with unsteady steps, Marcus, with Clair's help, made his way up the stairs and into bed.