The Pleasure of Memory by Welcome Cole Read Free Book Online

prize from around his neck and laid it carefully on a low, flat stone next to his head.
    A summer storm had followed him up this small mountain and now raged outside the cave. It was a gift from goddess Calina, one that would go miles in hindering the savages’ pursuit. The sound of the rain was as appealing as a lullaby, soothing and entrancing, and he rode its happy rhythm like a magic horse into the fog of sleep.
     
    ∞
     
    The tavern was dark and crowded, though so quiet, it was nearly silent. Beam sat at a narrow table at the back of the room. A smiling lass with long dark hair and full, ripe lips sat on his lap with her arm snaked around his neck. She held a colorless goblet to Beam’s mouth and urged him to drink deeply of it, and he did exactly as instructed. The wine was tasteless and lacked body, but he couldn’t have cared less. He had no enthusiasm for the wine; he had something far more appetizing in mind.
    He used the tip of his knife to tease loose the top and final ribbon of her bodice. As the pale fabric fell away to reveal his hard won booty, she giggled and covered his eyes.
    “I don’t think so, silly Parhronii,” she said, “Not until you’ve paid me.”
    Beam cupped his own hand over the hand blinding him. “Oh, believe me, darling,” he said, “I’ll pay you well enough. I may even give you a bonus.” He tried to pull her hand away, but she held it firmly in place.
    “Now, don’t you be rude, young man,” she said, giggling, “You know the rules. You have to pay passage before you board the ship. Now, just where is that purse of yours?” Her fingers crawled into his shirt and slid down his chest toward his pouch.
    Beam grabbed her wrist. “What the hell are you doing?”
    “Ven’nya ge fae, Be’ahm.”
    His alarms started clanging. The words were Vaemysh. He pulled her hand from his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”
    “Ven’nya ge fae, Be’ahm.”
    He pushed her from his lap and shoved his way back from the table, but his foot caught the chair rungs. He stumbled backward and fell to the floor landing hard against the wall. When he looked up, the barmaid was gone. Sitting in her place was a Vaemyd, a female savage. Slender and muscular, she was dressed in a warrior’s mail with her white hair braided tightly back. Her tiny, delicate horns sprouted from just behind her ears and curled forward under her earlobes like iridescent pearl earrings.
    “Where the hell did you come from?” he asked her.
    “How thoughtful of you, Be’ahm,” she said as she bounced his pouch in her hand, “Doesn’t it feel better to return stolen property? The way of the criminal is such a sorry life, don’t you think?”
    “What are you doing with that?” he yelled back, “It belongs to me!”
    “It never belonged to you, skeechka. You stole it from us.”
    “Bullshit! It’s mine by rights.”
    The table and chairs faded away as a dozen warriors materialized behind the Vaemyd. Their bows were spanned, their arrows leveled down at him.
    “By rights?” the Vaemyd said, laughing seriously, “What possible right could you have to our heirlooms?"
    “I suffered for it,” Beam said, “I spent my life earning it.”
    “No, Be’ahm, this is what you’ve earned.”
    With that, the grinning warriors released their arrows.
     
    ∞
     
    Beam bolted forward in his bed. The unexpected movement handed him another boot in the ribs that left him unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to think of anything beyond the agony gripping him. As he rocked himself toward composure, he attempted a calming meditation. He tried to send his thoughts to a happier time and place just as the monks had taught him, but the effort proved as useless as usual, due more to his scant supply of happy times to reference than fault in the brothers’ techniques.
    Eventually the pain eased enough to allow air to pass again. He carefully pushed himself up onto his knees. He smeared the long strands of sweaty hair