Good Wizards Part 1

The aroma of burning embers echoed the once stronger smell of smoke within the inn’s sleeping chamber. Dusk had fallen over the world and there was a single moment of total darkness before a small glimmer of light returned. Dragonshard lamps and lanterns illuminated the streets and several homes. Candles and oil brought visibility to other abodes. The fire was about to go out, having reached its climax long ago. The apprentice amused himself, thinking he and the flame were alike in that regard.
 
Designs of a smile crossed his mind yet didn’t appear on his lips. Jerard was tired. A thin layer of sweat managed to stick to him. It was Vorka’s fault he had been dirtied again. Her body grinding against his produced new sensations. New reasons for his body to pump rarely used adrenaline. It gave him pause.
 
There was a Cleansing Stone by the lobby. Old Man Morit, as the patrons dubbed him, didn’t put up a fee for its use. That was good, Jerard thought. Was there a point in cleaning himself, however? Coming back to bed with Vorka was his only intention for the evening. Being in bed was his only intention for the next few days as long as he had enough silver and gold.
 
The ruins were behind them; an adventure over and done with. Refar shouldn’t have any complaints if a sandstorm just so happened to block his path back to Sharn.
 
Abruptly a soft sensation reached into the Apprentice’s mind, pulling him from his thoughts. Marching down his thigh, Vorka’s hand danced a tease while her smile accompanied the act. A pair of freshly sharpened tusks framed her bottom lip. They were a dark green bordering on black from to her lipstick. With large, naturally narrowed eyes common for Orcish tribespeople near the Demon Wastes. Yet her eyebrows were thin and delicate, well-kept and edged.
 
She smiled, encouraging a brilliant beam from Jerard. They could exchange words at that moment. Words of pleasure or comfort. What words could express their eyes conveyed more. Reaching up to Vorka’s face, Jerard’s hand seemed smaller, almost like a child. Yet he had just become a man in some cultures. The contradiction was humorous to him. A soft kiss connected them. For the second time this night, Jerard experienced peace.