Noemi

[Robyn]

Dragon Eyes

Rico drifted the edge between sleep and consciousness as the caravan rumbled along the road. A tall lanky woman cuddled behind him, her breathing a soft rhythm upon his neck and shoulders. He smiled to himself, thanking Tymora for his unexpected good fortune.

Her name was Noemi. She had been found almost a year ago, wandering the streets of the southern river district in Heliogabalus. Oft mistaken for devil-spawn by the locals she was fearful, her face covered by stained scarfs. Cyril had brought her into the group and introduced her. Here, amongst the denizens of Cyril’s Circus and Troubadours she found a home with other entertainers and outcasts.

She was billed as “The Girl with the Dragon Eyes”. Sometimes, she would be fierce and caged. Other times, regal and magical. The audience was delighted when she would light lanterns and torches with her breath, and sing songs with no words at all. Just notes that both lifted the heart or squeezed it with sadness and despair.

While she was often ashamed of her appearance, Rico and others in the audience found her fascinating and beautiful. Parts of her face near her hairline were covered in small, golden scales. The scales ran down the side of her neck and onto her shoulders with two stripes down her back. Her green eyes bore a reptilian hue, almost human … but not. Her eye teeth were too long and sometimes, an innocent smile would frighten the unwary.

Rico deemed himself a nobody. A thief, pickpocket, an acquirer of illicit goods and sometimes, a cheat at cards. A scoundrel at best. Rico was not a large man and barely came up to her shoulders, but somehow, they had found a spiritual concordance. Over time they had grown close. He loved her dearly and liked to think she loved him too.

With this thought, Rico fell over the edge of consciousness into slumber, a contented smile upon his face.

An hour later, he was rudely awakened.

The wagons had stopped, and the door at the rear of his wagon was thrown open. “Out! Out, you lot! Line up aside the wagons!”

“What the … “, Rico started, rolled to his elbows and glanced to the back of the wagon. A man in official looking livery and chainmail stared back, a lantern held aloft.

“OUT!”, he shouted and banged the side of the wagon. Noemi rolled over blearily and sat up beside Rico. The man’s eyes went wide as Noemi’s scales caught the light, and he stepped back in alarm.

“Holy fuck…”, he muttered confused, squinting warily in Noemi’s direction. “Hey Jake! Come get of load of what this circus is carrying!”

Another man came over, this one larger with a torch. A large crossbow was in a sling on his back. His eyes went wide has his hands went to a symbol of Lathander on a cord around his neck. “Devil spawn!”, he whispered fearfully.

Rico shook his head and muttered at their ignorance, but was still wary. “What’s going on? Why are we being stopped?”

The larger man, Jake, in a smooth motion dropped the torch and brought the crossbow around over his shoulder, leveling it.

“Out. Now”, he said.

Rico got out of the wagon first. Noemi pulled the blankets around her and stepped out after him. Both officials backed up, Jake looking fearful, his hands too taught on the release lever of the crossbow for Rico’s liking. At the official’s careful prodding, they were herded to the side of the wagon. There, the rest of Cyril’s circus was lined up.

It was quite a display. 30 or so unusual people of many shapes and sizes. Barrabus the smith and strongman stood head and shoulders above everyone save perhaps for tall, willowy Noemi. The acrobats Trisk and Tate huddled together, their short wiry frames wrapped in a single blanket. There was Donnie the hostler, his moustache the envy of men near and far. The musicians clumped by one wagon, and Egan the illusionist sat by himself. Amidst them and others stood Cyril, looking as handsome and dapper as ever. Rico always wondered how the man kept his clothes from getting wrinkled.

In front of them stood more than a dozen dozen men, all in similar livery. All were well armed. One, with clothing a bit finer than the others stepped forward. He was balding, with a small gray moustache. A thick belt encircled an even thicker midsection. He turned and looked at the group with a predatory smile.

“Too many pastries”, whispered Rico to Noemi, who snorted and giggled.

The balding man raised his voice, “I am Collector Abbins, of his Majesty’s Treasury. It is my solemn duty to report that your illustrious ring master”, he said, gesturing to Cyril, “has failed to pay the taxes due to the crown before departing our fair city. So, I am here to collect. Where is Cyril, the owner of this motley troupe?”

Cyril stepped forward, hands open and expressive. “I assure you good sir that we paid the ten percent business tax due. I have the records right…”

“Twenty percent”, Collector Abbins interrupted with his predatory smile. “King’s law you know, to fund the soldiers fighting the insurgents and rebellion.”

Cyril stopped in his tracks, a confused and angry expression on his face. It was then that Jake, the large man with the torch leaned in and whispered to Collector Abbins, pointing to Noemi.

A chill ran up Rico’s back. Noemi looked down and stepped a little bit behind him, her dragon eyes full of fear behind the blankets she was using to cover herself. Collector Abbins looked towards Noemi, his eyes narrowing.

“You! Yes you, the tall woman in the blankets. Come forward.” Noemi just shook her head, and moved between Rico and the wagon. Rico looked up and squeezed her hand, then glared back defiantly at the men in livery. Collector Abbins gestured to two men to fetch her, one of them being Jake who seemed none too pleased at the prospect.

As they started forward, the men and women of Cyril’s Circus began to murmur in protest. When Barrabus stepped forward to intercede, the giant of a man was met with several spears.

“There’s no need of this!”, Cyril shouted holding out his hands. “I will fetch you the records so we can gather the correct coin and pay what you ask. Then we can be on our way.”

Collector Abbins held up a finger to Cyril and nodded to the two men to bring her. “Let’s see what we have here first, shall we? Bring her here!”

Noemi whimpered a bit. Rico could tell she was ready to run, but shook his head almost imperceptibly. He knew if she bolted things would go from bad to worse. He tried to provide a reassuring look, but Noemi didn’t seem convinced. Rico stepped aside, carefully palming a small knife, and the two men grabbed her and brought her forward. Soon, she stood before Collector Abbins, looking down at him. With a quick move, Jake pulled the blanket away from Noemi’s face. Several of the men let out a gasp as Noemi screwed up her courage and glared back defiantly. Collector Abbins scowled.

“You harbor and shelter an infernal creature?!”, he shouted. “There are laws against that you know. His majesty does not tolerate such things. Put her in chains! Search the caravan!”

Noemi’s eyes went wide, her brave show of defiance gone. Rico stood paralyzed for a moment before moving quickly to Noemi. Murmurs, then shouts went around the circus troupe and somewhere, a crossbow discharged.

Chaos ensued.

Jake the guard along with his compatriot grabbed Noemi’s arms. Barrabus moved forward grabbing one of the spears. Cyril was shouting protests trying to contain the tempers of his troupes. Most of them cowered. A few did not. “She’s not an infernal!”, a few shouted, but the words were lost.

Rico stood there in shock wondering why he wasn’t moving forward. He felt odd, almost giddy, surprised to see the quarrel buried deep to the fletching in his chest. He stood there for what seemed an eternity as the ground tilted to meet him. He wanted to reach Noemi. Desperately. But as the scenery dissolved into the gray land, he realized he was already dead.

As Noemi was grabbed, she watched Rico pitch forward. Jake the guard and his companion suddenly found out that Noemi was a handful. She was deceptively strong, far stronger than first appearances would have one believe. She shrieked, a harsh wailing lilt that assaulted the ears, and Jake’s companion was launched backwards onto the ground.

Jake however wasn’t so easily tossed about. He was a large man, used to roughing it in bars across middle Faerun. He flung Noemi to the ground and using his weight, pinned her to the mossy soil. He stared at her hatefully. Noemi stared back with equal loathing, then smirked. Noemi’s eyes lit up, and Jake’s world become blinding pain. The other guards watched in horror as Jake head was immolated, a column of fire coming from Noemi’s lips. Jake shrieked and rolled off, batting at his head, rolling on the ground.

A roar echoed nearby in the forest. Trees rustled. The roar grew louder. All the fighting momentarily stopped as everyone, both circus troupe and guard looked to the sound.
A large roar, followed by a long column of fire ripped along the side of the road about 50 paces south. The sound of crunching underbrush followed, and another column of fire rolled along the side of the road.

Dragon!

Chaos was replaced with panic. Guards took to the woods, tripping over fallen branches and underbrush. Most of the troupe scattered. Some hid under wagons. Others fled down the road.

When the last guard was out of sight, Egan the Illusionist stepped around from the wagon, a smug and satisfied smile on his face. The heavy footsteps, fire and burning vegetation dissolved into nothingness. Egan turned and focused, and they were replaced by the sounds of screams and crunching bones, just in case one of the Abbins’ guards pulled himself together and be a hero.

But of course, there was nothing there.

As the troupe gathered about and collected their wits, Noemi ran to Rico and turned his lifeless body over. She stared at him in disbelief, shaking him to wake up and stop pretending. She looked over at Cyril and the others who began to walk over. Noemi’s eyes pleaded, looking over at Cyril and the others to do something. Anything.

But all they could do is weep with her.

Epilogue – Noemi

I wanted to stay with my “family”. The only family I’ve ever really known. But after the incident on the road and with Rico’s death, I thought it best to go my own way. Cyril tried to convince me to stay. He was sweet about it as were the others. Supportive as all good family should be. But in the end, I had to say goodbye.

Tethyr held nothing for me now, so I wandered my way back north eventually reaching the border of Damara again. I thought about making my way back to Heliogabalus, but there are too many bad memories there. After reaching Trails End, I thought instead to turn east. I took a caravan to Steppenhall, a small trading post on the edge Giantspires.

I heard stories in Steppenhall of lands east beyond the Giantspires. Harsh lands full of treasure and magic. They seemed a bit fantastic, as all good tales should be, but they piqued my curiosity. Surely if I were to make a name for myself, it would be there.

I purchased a map at the general store, careful to keep my face covered. I traced my finger along the Long Road, past a Helmite Abbey, a mining town, a small keep and finally a city. Peltarch.

Yes, I would go there.