Black Cats and Lost Lovers

[Azulfae]

Moricath opened his eyes. His head spun and his stomach groaned. Days he had gone without food or drink. It was amazing how cruel his people could be. The least they could have done was to offer him a quick death. In his heart he knew death would be the punishment for his crime.

He lay on the stone floor looking up at the stone ceiling above him. This prison had been cut out of the sea cliff long ago. The rocks were dark and wet, the air salty and thick.

Little light came this far down the cells.

Moricath barely had the energy to breath anymore. He lifted his right arm and reached for the rusted metal bars beside him. Energy crackled from them suddenly, activated by his fingers drawing nearby. Moricath winced and grabbed out hoping the shock might finish him off.

The burst threw him skidding across the floor, to the back wall of the cell.

He lay there now, too dry for tears to flow, too drained to cry out.

Hours passed, the sound of the ocean came and went as the tide made progress into the prison cavern’s entrance and then withdrew once more.

Moricath listened to his breathing as it blended into the drone of the sea, a death rattle of salt air burning in and out of his lungs. Why did they fight for him, why did they keep on? There was no point.

Hours passed, the sound of the ocean came and went as the tide made progress into the prison cavern’s entrance and then withdrew once more.

He dreamed of better days when life had been easier, happy memories, memories of people he had loved and people who had loved him. He dreamed that he was there again, a child in Evermeet, not a care in the world. His denial faded and he remembered how he had betrayed them and they had in turn betrayed him. Moricath’s face contorted in pain and he tried so hard to cry.

It was useless.

Hours passed, the sound of the ocean came and went as the tide made progress into the prison cavern’s entrance and then withdrew once more.

He listened, on and on…

Then he realised footsteps, footsteps he had heard but, not anymore. He strained his eyes open once again.

Something was there, in the darkness.

A crackle and hiss and then the sound of breaking metal.

The bars of his prison ruptured and the door swung open. An empty glass vial rolled past his face. His bright amber eyes twitched then followed the vial as it rolled past.

“Moricath, awaken. Awaken…”

Moricath’s jaw gawped and gagged to make a word but nothing came from his dried throat.

A ring upon Ellisime’s hand emitted a dull purple light across Moricath’s face, her soft fingers touched his cheek and stroked back his matted and tangled hair.

She gasped.

“What has become of you? My dear Moricath, you’re almost a corpse.”

Moricath listened to the sound of a glass stopper drawn from another vial. Ellisime poured the blessed waters into his mouth.

Moricath choked.

It was as if he had lost the ability to drink, but the healing powers of the potion repaired his throat and soon he was able to swallow.

A gentle cry came from his lips and his arm rose to touch her pastel white hair. Ellisime’s beautiful red eyes looked down upon Moricath, her obsidian skin smooth and velvet like in the purple light. How could to love such a creature be wrong.

Ellisime pulled Moricath up and cradled his upper body on her lap.

“Drink these my love and you shall have the strength to make it where we need to go.”

Moricath took the vials, a pair of winged boots carved into the glass of one vial and a bull's head painted onto the cork stopper of the next.

He nodded, and pressed the potions to his lips one at a time, drinking down the waters and readying himself to move his bones. Hope came upon him and his eyes watered with tears.

He reached up with one arm and cradled his lovers head over his. Their lips met and he knew that it had all been worth it.

[Azulfae]

The lovers hobbled to the end of the long corridor of prison cells. Ellisime perched Moricath up against the polished marble arch that marked the end of the prison.

Her hands moved over a lock mechanism and its concentric design spun and flicked open.

Moricath pushed himself up and rested a hand upon her shoulder as they moved into the sun lit cavern entrance.

“I could have picked that.”

Ellisime, looked back and smiled.

The sun burned both their eyes and they squinted. Moricath made out a small row boat bobbing in the water and oars on the rocks beside. Ellisime’s eyes were not adjusting to the light so fast, despite her having not been locked in darkness for near a tenday.

Moricath took her hand and began to move towards the boat.

“Come my love, I see the boat.”

“Boat?” She said in question, “I had brought....” As she raised two other potions horror filled Moricath’s heart.

“NO!”

Two figures clad in mithril chain, with long golden hair materialised from invisibility as they unleashed a pair of arrows.

Moricath felt Ellisime’s body sink, her hand gripped his, a vice grip, as if made of steel.

“Mori…”

He dragged her back through the door and let her lie on the floor. As Moricath reached up to close the door again he met resistance as the two elves fought back trying to keep the door open.

Moricath looked up and saw four fingers clasped around the door edge holding it from the other side. He snatched a dagger from a belt across his lover’s chest and sliced down gliding across the door edge, cutting over the fingers. Each finger popped off beautifully flying off in a different direction to the last. A scream rang out and the door slammed shut, the lock span and sank back into the door and all was dark once more.

“Ellisime!”

Moricath’s hands hovered over the arrow shafts. He didn’t know what to do.

“Ellisime!”

He touched her face. Her mouth hung open and her eyes stared into the darkness.

“No! no no no no…” Moricath gripped her cloths and bent his face down over her. His eyes filled with tears.

So close they had been to freedom. They could have run far away. In Westgate they could have made a home and run a potion shop.

Moricath rose up and stared down. She was gone now, it had all been for nothing. There could be no greater loss.

He took the dagger and held it against his own throat.

Moricath closed his eyes and pushed the blade hard into his skin. Blood surfaced and he squinted in pain. There was nothing left to live for, then…

THUMP!

The door rumbled.

THUMP!

Moricath opened his eyes and stared.

THUMP!

His teeth grit and he lowered the dagger from his own neck.

In the shadows behind him a cold air moved across his back.
A whisper in the silence. “I’Morcath…”

[Azulfae]

“Lothanweir, my hand!”

Lothanweir dropped the rock and turned from the door.

“We shall collect your fingers Amilor. Your father knows a cantation that will mend them soon enough.”

Amilor used an elbow to move himself across the stones to rest up next to the door.

Lothanweir looked down at his friend with a look of pity in his eye. The look soon turned into anger towards Moricath and he turned to swing the rock against the door once again.

He heaved the rock over his head and brought it forwards with force towards the wood.

The door flung open and the rock came down. A shoulder met his stomach and Lothanweir flew with the momentum of the rock right over I’Morcath’s hunched body.

I’Morcath rolled onto his shoulder and came up spinning to face. He came back past and eyed Amilor, blood covering his armour and fingers missing from one hand. Had he not been so enraged and saddened all at once he might have smirked.

I’Morcath moved swiftly past and back into the darkness. The door shut and the bolt locked once more.

Amilor’s eyes widened and he made to his knees and turned away from the door.

Screams came from within. He heard his comrade’s body thump against the door over and over as he was stabbed and beaten.

Amilor reached his feet and started to make for the boat.

He dived at the boat, falling on his back into it. He grabbed an oar in his good hand and pushed away from shore.

Behind him he heard a latch flip once more and the squeak of rusty hinges opening slowly.

“You plan to row in circles my friend.”

I’Morcath grabbed the boat and yanked it back onto the rocks.

“No! No!! NOOOOO!!!”

He grappled the elf by his hair and ripped him from the craft and onto the rocks. A solid boot to the face stunned him for a second and by his hair I’Morcath dragged Amilor back into the prison.

A moment later he emerged carrying the body of Ellisime on his shoulder and laid her down next to the door. I’Morcath closed the door once more and checked the lock latched shut. He carelessly slung four fingers and two thumbs into the sea behind him and leaned forwards putting his forehead against the door.

A couple of weak thumps came from within. He smiled not. He took no pleasure from such things. The elf had deserved this.

I’Morcath put his lover’s body into the boat and clambered in himself. The two of them drifted out into the lapping waves. He did not row, only lay there with her head upon his stomach as they drifted out to sea.

He cared not enough to go anywhere.

For a moment it felt like she was still alive. Moricath fell asleep, the potions had worn off and the strain had taken its toll on him.

The sun set and the night took the little boat into the darkness.