by Kathleen Lenore Arnason

Created on: May 10, 2008

HUSAVIK

The sun burned hotter than any day so far this season, the dry choking air felt as if an oven was cooking all who moved through it. Basting with the smell of sweat and things rotten in the heat, the market was still full, the town still greedy for profit. No matter that no air was fit to breathe, the townsfolk breathed it just the same. This day Husavik walked slowly through the crowds and was grateful for his small stature, which helped him to blend in while still able to see around him.

The fair-haired dwarf ran his muscular hand through the thick blonde mass of curls falling across his forehead, pushing it back impatiently. Sweat trickled from his bony brow down the sides of his face and found refuge in his dense curly beard, which was red,orange and white. His large, piercing blue eyes scanned the marketplace surreptitiously, slowly but carefully seeking the dark one he knew was not far behind him. Following him, sneaking behind him just far enough to hide but not to lose him in the crowd. It would not lose him.

Husavik knew the devil was waiting until he was isolated, more vulnerable, easier to attack. If it had the nerve, he was ready, but still he wished to know when and how the attack would come. He came to a counter filled with beverages, spice jars and teapots, situated with stools in front of it for customers to sit and test at their leisure. He pulled himself up onto a seat and signaled to the proprietor to fill a cup with mint tea. At least he would cool himself for a short time.

When the green elf girl brought his tea, he sipped it slowly, letting the mint slide down his throat as if it were ice. He dared to close his eyes for an instant, to rest, to gather his strength for the trial to come.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp stabbing in his left ankle, as in a bee sting. He opened his eyes and whirled around, looking for a culprit, finding none. He examined his ankle and found a dart, small but effective, with it's yellow feather guidance system intact. He had only a moment to realize he had been hit with a potent magic before he crumpled off the stool and onto the hot dry ground. All went black.

Husavik's next awareness was pain. Before he was even able to open his dry, hot eyes he sensed raw rubbing pain in his wrists, then his feet. He tried to move away from the pain, but could not. Moving awakened new waves of bloody, raw hurting. He held himself still while trying to come to his senses. Slowly, his burning eyelids opened to a hazy, dark cave. Rock walls surrounded him and the smell of wood burning and rotted flesh assailed his waking nose.

Husavik felt fear hotter than the air...

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