The Belromanticum

Chapter 1

Any who open this volume will know me. By deed, by reputation. If not, there exist volumes in ever burgeoning number, those set down by myself and those claimed by others. These pages, however, are a different kind of memoir. Years will never best me, but they will take my memory, cover it in the cobwebs of millennia, and then to seal it away among the curios of ages.

This is a chronicle of a different kind of adventure, one as deadly, with opponents of exceptional cunning and skill, with narrow escapes and bold gambits. In short, a carnal adventure. I will start at the beginning and set down, to the best of my recollection, what I was thinking and feeling at the time. A guide to those missing spaces in the better-known chronicles. If my story sometimes wanders, I beg for your largesse. When a wizard asks a favor, it is best to humor him.

The life of a wizard had to be better than what life planned for me by accident of birth. That's what I told myself countless times during my apprenticeship and no one ever told me any differently. Certainly not old Rhadoviel. He was an ornery prick, 500 years old if he was a day. Trained countless apprentices in those years and whatever fatherly warmth an old wizard was expected to have had become as cold as granite after a winter's storm by the time he set eyes upon me.

The only reason he agreed to train me was that even old Rhadoviel wouldn't ignore the one sacred law. When he heard of a baby being watched over in his crib by a night eft, he was bound to teach me to harness the power that burned in my marrow. For if he didn't, I would be a menace to all lands, civilized and savage. I don't remember my parents, outside of a few images here and there, and even those might be fabrications, attempts by my mind to comfort me. My reality for the first twenty years of my life was Rhadoviel's tower--Thunderhead--and the surrounding environs.

Thunderhead loomed on a promontory overlooking the sea, the cliff plunging a hundred feet to a rocky, wave-lashed beach. Rhadoviel kept the apex lit with magical flame, he said to be of service as a lighthouse. I know the truth was more that he wanted to minimize the chance of talking to anyone and a shipwreck was bound to provoke conversation. We were about a league up the coast from the fishing town of Burley Shoal, where a young wizard could obtain anything from fish to a slightly different kind of fish. Sometimes I think the reason he adopted me was less to respect the sacred law and more to have someone fetch supplies. Food, water, your occasional orc's eye or troll's toe, if a passing adventurer happened to sell one of those. I wasn't to dally too much, but I was young then and seized on any chance to interact with someone who wasn't a cranky old coot.

On the day in question, the only one where this story could begin, I took our mule, Hob into Burley Shoal, hoping someone had caught a dogfish or a tuna and I wouldn't have to try to make yet another semi-palatable dinner of anchovies. Despite it being half my diet, I hadn't developed my taste for fish yet and truth be told, it wasn't really fish I warmed to. I'm already getting ahead of myself. I beg your pardon.

My familiar Oddrin, that night eft who had appeared at my crib, was wrapped around my neck and nestled in the hood of my cloak. Thanks to eyes like lanterns and glow spots down his flank, he wasn't exactly hidden. Later, I learned to use that to make me appear more impressive. At the time, I had very little control over how anyone perceived me. That was an older man's trick.

As I walked onto the muddy roads of Burley Shoal and twin aromas of salt and fish enfolded me, I attracted my share of looks. I was, after all, a wizard's apprentice. Not much happened in our little corner of the world. Thanks to the forces that pull them from their towers, wizards were often considered ill omens. An apprentice wouldn't necessarily herald a war or a dark lord rising, but a provincial fisherman might think we were behind a poor catch or a hole in a boat.

As always with these trips, I was looking forward to seeing Bridda, the baker's daughter. I had eyes for her, though in that I was hardly unique. She was the prettiest girl in the village. We were both of marriageable age and I was foolish enough to think I was a possible suitor.

After picking up ten pounds of smoked fish and three barrels of beer, I went to the bakery for our bread. My heart was light that day, because I planned to speak to her. We had spoken before, mere words here and there, but shyness choked me off before I could declare my intentions. She was nowhere to be seen. Galfrid, her father, handed over the loaves in exchange for Rhadoviel's copper. "Where's Bridda?" I asked, trying to be as nonchalant as I could.

He sighed as weary as I'd ever heard him. "She's over at the tavern.Adventurersare passing through."

"Adventurers? From where?"

"East or south. Perhaps north or even west. Who knows? Only good thing about adventurers is their gold. Once they spend it, best they leave. Misfortune follows them like a curse."

"I've never seen an adventurer."

"You'll be one. Only job there is for a young wizard."

"I could be a hedge wizard. Stay here."

Galfrid smiled not unkindly. "Something tells me this place is too small for the likes of you, lad."

I could not tell him the future I imagined with his daughter. "Perhaps," I said.

"Good day to you and your master." This last was a dismissal. Galfrid might tolerate me, but in his eyes I was a proto-adventurer, and thus a proto-annoyance.

I almost went home. That's what I was supposed to do. But I didn't. I wanted to see the adventurers, almost as much as I wanted to see Bridda. Two birds, one stone.

The tavern in Burley Shoal was two stories, though just barely. On the ground floor, its two rooms, a kitchen and a common room, carried the scent of beer and stew baked into their very boards. A single room for rent could be found on the upper floor, though I would not use it until many years later. It was the only building in town I'd ever been to that was consistently warm, thanks to the fire always blazing merrily in the hearth. Hells, it was warmer in there than most of Thunderhead.

The adventurers took up one corner and had attracted quite a throng. One of them was holding court, a man with soft features and a narrow mustache, a rapier on his hip and a sparkle in his eye. He was dressed flamboyantly in reds, oranges, and yellows, like he was trying to be a flame. He wore a lute on his back and he was telling the story of how the group had recently slain a family of trolls who had been killing locals. Bridda gazed up at him lovingly from her place by his side, and I couldn't tell if I should be angry or crestfallen. I settled on both. Oddrin, always much more open about his feelings than me, uttered a hiss.

I forced myself to look at the bard's companions. A blonde woman in enameled plate and a tabard with the sunburst of Umione leaned on a heavy warhammer. She watched the bard with weary tolerance. A man with shaggy hair and chainmail grinned and drank. A broadsword and shield on his back left no doubt as to his role in the group. A dark woman in a robe sat nearby, drinking and watching her bard. A slender woman in a costume of leather was barely paying attention, using a dagger to clean her nails. She watched everyone in the tavern without looking like she was, and her attention fell on me, noting that I was noting her. My face grew hot as I looked away.

"And what is this? You never said this town had a wizard."

I blinked and realized the bard's eyes were on me. He approached, an arrogant smirk on his face. "I'm no wizard," I said. "Just an apprentice."

"Apprentice," the bard said, as though the word itself was a joke.

"Rhadoviel's tower isn't far," said the dark woman in a bored voice.

"Thank you, Lavinia," the bard said. "Old Rhadoviel. He your master?"

"Yes, sir," I said. Bridda was watching the both of us now.

"Suppose that means you know a few tricks, no? Wizard like you?"

"Leave him alone, Mallathar," the blonde woman said.

"But we're without a wizard," Mallathar the bard said. "Aren't we, Ulrika? Can't afford to ignore talent in the wild. So how about it, apprentice? Want to show us something?"

The bulk of my knowledge was mostly parlor tricks, the kinds of useful little things wizards use to make our days a little easier. Cleaning up, drying off, that sort of thing. But I did have one or two stronger spells in my grimoire. Using them would exhaust me, but admitting defeat in front of this man would never happen. Not with Bridda's attention on me.

"Scared?" the bard taunted.

"Come now," said the shaggy-haired man.

"Give him a chance, Brennan." He turned back to me. "Well? Let's see it."

I became acutely aware that the woman in leather was staring at me. Her gaze had weight. I was reminded of a cat sizing up a mouse, deciding what to do with a potential plaything. "You don't have a wizard? What about her? Lavinia."

"Lavinia's a witch," the bard said. "Useful, but not a wizard."

"Thanks," Lavinia said, downing her drink. "Barmaid, another!"

"It's all right," Mallathar said. "If you're frightened, this conversation can end. It's not as if weneeda wizard."

"Very well. What do you want to see?" I said, knowing I'd fallen for his veiled challenge, but in that moment, not caring.

"Your best spell. There's an orc facing you down, what do you do?"

I nodded, and with a gesture and a few words, I created the effect I wanted. A knock sounded at the door. "Open up! King's guard!" Heads turned to it.

Mallathar burst into laughter. "That? That's it? A little illusion?"

I was still concentrating because what Mallathar didn't know was that I hadn't cast one cantrip but two. Lavinia's full mug of ale levitated off the table. She was about to protest, but the woman in leather put a hand on her arm to silence her.

"I'm sorry, everyone. When I said I wanted a wizard--"

The mug upended over his head. The bar was silent as rivulets of beer ran through his hair, down his face, and over his clothes. Mallathar's eyes blazed for the space of a heartbeat, and then he broke into a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. Laughter followed first from his friends, then across the tavern.

"Now thatisa good trick. Sit down, apprentice. You have a name?"

"Belromanazar."

"Barmaid, a drink for Belromanazar!" Mallathar threw a gold crown on the table. The barmaid swept it up and bit. I stayed with the adventurers for a time, drinking and listening to their tales. At some point in the evening, Bridda left and I scarcely noticed. Each introduced themselves to me. I found out the leather-clad woman's name was Black Mira and was their specialist in traps and the like. As the night wore on, I became more and more fascinated by the way the leather costume hugged her lithe body. With all of the buckles, it was hard not to think about loosening one and peeling her out of it. Granted, I had no idea what to do with a woman once peeled. My furtive imaginings, prompted by a few books and tapestries in Rhadoviel's collection, were not equal to the task.

Eventually, they made their offer. It was Ulrika who broached it. "We need a wizard. You need to practice your skills. There's a barrow not two leagues from here. We're going to clear it out, but it would be easier with you than without."

"And we plan to keep what we find," Mira said.

Ulrika rolled her eyes. "A share of treasure, that's what we're offering. A fair share."

"I don't know if I can," I said. "I don't know if my master--"

"Don't lay this at his feet. If you don't want to come, don't. But don't make an excuse of him," Mallathar said.

"Live a little," said Black Mira.

I winced at the idea of disappointing the rogue. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow. First light," Ulrika said.

"Eh...second or third light," Mallathar said with a wink. "Gotta sleep off the drink."

Ulrika glanced at Lavinia, who was already snoring on the table. "Maybe you're right."

"All right," I said. I left, a little wobbly, and returned to Thunderhead. It was after dark, and I couldn't escape the sensation that I was being watched. I attributed it to my impending confrontation with Rhadoviel. I found him in his lab, hunched over a burning green flame, feeding it different shades of dust. The air was heavy with a miasma of a hundred different scents from the foul to the sublime. My eyes began to water as soon as I passed the threshold.

"'Bout time. You without a doubt the laziest apprentice I've ever had," he said, never looking up, his words punctuated by the hiss of dust meeting flame. I explained what I wanted and to my surprise he said, "Go. If you get killed, I won't have to feed you anymore."

I scarcely slept that night, restless with the realization that I was going to be an adventurer,Iwould test the skills I'd spent two decades learning. I walked back to Burley Shoal in the dark of morning, Oddrin on my shoulder, my steps light. These chronicles aren't about my time as an adventurer. My career has been well documented, though certainly the tale I tell here will intersect. (See the first volume ofThe Bel-Romfor the details on that barrow.) Suffice to say, here we descended into the crypt and found it thoroughly colonized by wights. I nearly died a dozen times and my spells were hardly the most effective, but I think I acquitted myself well. Brennan and Mallathar patted me hard on the back when all was said and done, and Lavinia didn't make many rude comments.

My share of the treasure turned out to be an ironwood quarterstaff, a tarnished brass lamp, and more gold than I had ever seen. Since then, I have seen much more and now I realize it was a pittance, but at the time I felt like I could buy a kingdom. The others received a larger share, but I was the least useful one there. Seemed fair to me.

Mallathar insisted we return to Burley Shoal and celebrate--tradition, apparently. We were the conquering heroes, the wight-slayers. I had been raised on the beer they brewed in Burley Shoal, but it never tasted as sweet as the first sip that night. I was ready for Bridda, a true and blooded adventurer, but she only had eyes for Mallathar. I slipped out of the tavern as soon as I was certain I had no chance with her, the beer now sour on my tongue. Anger and resentment boiled inside me as I did my best to pretend Mallathar wasn't doing those things with Bridda that I had seen on Rhadoviel's tapestries. Those things I had longed to do with her myself. I walked the league home under growling stormclouds to be greeted by my master.

"Didn't die, hmm? Bully for you. Now if it isn't too much trouble, fix us supper."

With heavy limbs, I did just that. The adventure in the barrow still buzzed inside me. I was too tired to relax, too jittery to eat. I know now what my body wanted, but then it was still a mystery.

I went to my chamber and lit a candle, the flame dancing in the breeze. A single window looked out over the windswept sea. I enjoyed the chilly air, especially as it brushed over my face while I was nestled snugly in my furs. The clouds broke, and the clatter of rain filled the room.

I set my treasures at my table and examined them once again. Both the staff and the lamp were magical, which any wizard would know at a single glance. Look at something between your eyelids, and a faint aura would be visible. Not a strong one in either case, but I didn't need strong. They were treasures and they were mine.

I blew out the candle and climbed into my bed. And suddenly, I wasn't alone in the room anymore. One moment I was, and the next, a presence loomed next to me. I yelped, trying to struggle to my feet, and either ready a spell or get to my new staff. A slender hand, wet with rain, pushed me back down.

"Don't make all that noise unless you want your master to know I'm here."

"Mira?" I whispered.

"You know anyone else who can break into a wizard's tower undetected?"

I sighed, tension bleeding from my limbs. "I thought you were one of those wights."

"No wight could scale this tower."

"What are you doing here?"

"Mallathar isn't the only one of us who likes a little after-action action."

"I'm sorry?"

She stood, her silhouette clear in the white flashes of lightning. She unbuckled her suit, stripping it off her lissome body. In the gloom, her skin was ghostly, shadows pooling in her lithe muscles. Her womanly scent joined the clean smell of the storm, mysterious and intoxicating. "Ever lain with a woman?" she asked.

"Lots of times."

"That's a no."

"Correct."

"It's easy. I'll talk you through it."

I swallowed. "Really?"

"Let's get started. You going to invite me into your bed?"

I threw the furs aside, and Black Mira cuddled up next to me, her bare skin hot against mine. Only my thin night shirt separated us. My staff, painfully hard, reached for her, leaving no doubt of my need. The storm that howled outside was inside me as well, demanding to be allowed to break.

Mira was gorgeous. Her sharp-featured face was barely visible in the dark, though I remembered every contour. Her warm breath caressed my neck as she fit her lithe body with mine. Her black hair was cut short. Her eyes were an icy blue that glowed faintly in the dark, like a cloud ready to shed its lightning. Her skin was ivory, taut over muscles that coiled and uncoiled like a cat's.

I lunged at her and she chuckled, putting a hand on my chest. "Women don't want to be taken." She paused. "Sometimeswomen want to be taken. Tonight, I want a bout of love, and that means taking your time, bringing me along in stages. That's what I want tonight, and that's what you're going to give me. You're game?"

I nodded eagerly. She could have said anything and I would have been game.

I gasped a bit as her hand gripped my manhood. "Oh my, youaregame. Shirt off. I'll not fuck a man so ridiculously attired." She pulled the night shirt over my head, cast it aside, and enfolded us both in the furs. I was wrapped in pure sensation, the fur caressing every inch of my naked flesh that wasn't in contact with Mira. Outside, the storm snarled its way over the waves.

Her mouth was on mine then, her tongue insistent. I tried to match her ardor and she broke away. "No, no.Exploremy mouth. Imagine you're eating a piece of fruit. Don't devour,savor." She grinned as a thought bloomed in her mind and I heard the smile even in the dark. "There are times you will ignore that advice, but those are the days when you take a woman up against a wall because neither of you can stand another second of you not being inside her."

Her hands stroked my arms and back and I imitated her as well as I could. Curious, I reached down and brushed between her legs. I found wetness covered with a short ruff of soft hair. It was instantly the most intoxicating thing I had ever felt. "You're wet."

"Yes. The thought of deflowering you has worked some magic on me. Sometimes when I move just right...I've had my bliss in combat more than once."

"Really?"

"One of the advantages of being a woman, love. Do you like the feel of me?"

"Can I touch you?"

"Yes. Gently. Don't go for the core of me. It's like my mouth. Explore."

I touched her sex again, stroking it as I would the rest of her. She was soft and slick, and she sucked in air as my finger dipped past the fur and into the wet folds. She licked her hand and I felt her once again grip my manhood. The touch ignited a bolt through me, and the sky rumbled its approval.

"...Gods!"

"Yes, you'll get your bliss swiftly. I'm going to get the first one out of you." She paused, to emphasize her point. "Make the second last."