Not really the entire story, thought the exhausted mage. But it would do, even if I don’t know how it happened.
Asag looked at the mage and smiled.
“It’s official then. We’re at war with the flayed donkey. No more camazotz and the like in the night. Open, glorious war! Gives me the thrills every time I think about it. Hah! We’ve got bigger balls, you blasted donkey-rabbit!” said Asag, though the last part was loudly shouted to the waiting sky.
Chapter Twelve:
The Villages of Exile
The party continued along the old mining road which weaved and turned along a dirt track among the trees and mounds of the forested terrain. They were marshaled in the usual arrowhead arrangement, with secure flanks, though this time, Habrok and Tyndur formed the tip of the wedge. The previous night had passed without further incident, though the mage had, as expected, a fitful night. Only the assistance of his guides allowed him to finally grab some sleep.
Beside Tyler was the ever-present exile, while Astrid and the daemon guarded their vulnerable sides. Their march was mostly made in silence with any instruction from Tyndur or Habrok given through hand gestures. Unfortunately for the company’s precautions, Asag didn’t feel bound by such safeguards, and sometimes kept up a running commentary of anecdotes, peppered with snide comments and seemingly innocent questions.
Tyler knew the dark entity was bored, not only with the mortal way of traveling but also of the lack of any strange, dangerous, or exciting occurrence. Given the previous night with the camazotz, the mage thought that would have satisfied Asag. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the situation. But Tyler was quite content with the lack of any surprises. He could hear the sounds of the forest around them, a reassurance nobody or nothing was lying in wait for them.
The better part of the morning had been spent moving through the woods until they emerged into a dirt road. According to the ranger, it had been used to haul coal and iron deposits, pointing out small lumps of ore lying on both sides of the path. The exile immediately asked about the kind of traffic on the road, and Habrok replied it must be light. There were traces of movement on the way, but it wasn’t much and definitely not recent – the mines must have been depleted long ago. Must be locals or itinerant traders, ventured the ranger.
“Now the inevitable question. Left, or right?” asked Tyndur, pointing with his battleaxe at the mentioned directions.
Tyler immediate let loose a scrying burst and was rewarded with a spot where several flickering magical dots were gathered. It was a bit far, but it wasn’t anything walking wouldn’t solve. He pointed to his left, and the company moved in the indicated path. Unusually, he could feel some energy along the entire stretch of the track. He wanted to investigate, but Astrid beat him to it.
A low whistle from the Valkyrie and the einherjar stopped, halting their progress. She walked to the roadside, brought out her knife, and started digging. After a few minutes, a fist-sized stone engraved with a few crude glyphs was in her hand. The mage could feel some power emanating from it, but it was of a passive kind. The Valkyrie returned the object and covered the hole.
“Runes of protection meant to protect the road from predators and the occasional minor malicious spirit. The mining Habrok mentioned must have been quite profitable for the road to have these runes,” Astrid commented as she returned to her position.
The party continued walking, and Tyler mused he would have preferred arriving closer to the edges of the dwarven kingdom. Nearer the mountains, approaching the villages from the other side. Still, there was no getting around Hrun’s insistence the company avoid any possibility of alerting Sutr or any of the jotunn lord’s minions on their arrival. He now had his doubts about that excuse, but he also really wanted to meet that Dolos character, if only to reassure the mad Titan as to their professed intentions. Tyler sighed, feeling the tiredness of his poor feet. Walking in a meandering journey to find the villages of exile had already been exhausting. And even then, they still had to continue up into the mountains of the dwarves.
Suddenly, he heard Asag call out to him.
“Archmage, a settlement with a tavern awaits! I could sense it farther along the road. A strange place, but full of the necessities needed by tired travelers!”
The halted company all turned to the warrior and ranger at the front, waiting for confirmation.
“I don’t sense a damned thing, sire. But then again, I am not of his damnable tribe,” remarked Tyndur, referring to the daemon. “How about you, Habrok?”
The ranger merely shook his head. Tyler looked at Asag.
“You’re sure? That would be a strange place indeed, this close to the dwarves,” observed the mage.
“Of course, I’m sure. Don’t tell me you now doubt my wondrous senses,” replied Asag. “I could even say I smell mead and ale, but that would be bragging. It has been a long time.”
“Well, he could be right, sire,” said Habrok. “Approaches to kingdoms usually have these small settlements, all subsisting on on-going trade. The dwarves could have conducted small-scale trading with the settlements here, even if mining had ceased. I would speculate, given the reputation of this area, that the trade centered around magical and similar items.”
Then Tyler remembered what the demon mentioned. He didn’t like the way Asag said it. It was a tone which to the mage presaged trouble.
“What’s so strange about that settlement?” he asked suspiciously.
“A presence? Maybe a deity in hiding, or a god lying in ambush. I really can’t tell. But not where mead and ale are located. That I am sure of. You want me to go and drag him back here? That would make me look like a servant, but at least it would be interesting!” offered the excited Asag immediately.
“You’re going to just drag a deity?” exclaimed Tyler, upset at what was proposed, though the picture his imagination presented wasn’t so simple or straightforward. He noted Asag didn’t say bring, but drag, and the entity could be quite literal about matters he mentioned. That dragging proposal would inevitably lead to more complications and worse, new foes. Not to mention the possible scandalous circumstances attracting everyone and everything.
“It’s not as if it’s the head of a pantheon, though his energy has something ancient in it. Child’s play for me. You want me to go now? A minute or two of my time. Let’s say, five at the most,” came the reply. From what Tyler could sense, Asag was in earnest and didn’t consider dragging back whoever or whatever it was a problem. The daemon probably might have to search for the entity, but tell-tale magical emanations weren’t a problem for the troublesome being. But it was apparent the identity of the talked-about victim wasn’t clear. Even Asag admitted that minor but dangerous fact. No telling who it was.
“Let’s see who it is first,” decided Tyler cautiously. More complications with uninvolved deities and pantheons he didn’t need and the mysterious entity could be Dolos. He needed some confirmation Eira was alive and well. Given Asag’s optimism and the possible resistance of the unknowing victim, Tyler might be left with bits and pieces of Asag’s object of interest.
“You’re sure? I mean that’s an offer right there. I say better handle him here than in that village. No telling if it’s full of minions. I did that trick before, just so you know,” said Asag, disappointment starting to emerge.
“We can’t risk any eruption of magical energy which would call attention to our presence. Hrun did remind us of that small matter,” Tyler explained. “Our waiting host is a given, but the attention of others would be unwelcome.”
He had no doubt whoever was going to be dragged by Asag was going to fight back. Even a simple invitation by the daemon would surely elicit the same reaction. The fellow’s aura and colorful history with deities would make sure of a deadly magical contest that would level the village in the process, leaving them without the pleasure of spending the night in an inn, and that would be least of the possible consequences.
“And Asag, if there’s a
tavern, an inn, or whatever, that’s probably where I am supposed to meet the character the Titan mentioned. Could you wait for my meeting to be over before you start on a drinking binge? I know you haven’t tasted anything for a long time, but I don’t want our friends to know you’re with the company. And no destroying the village. The rest of us want to sleep on a bed tonight,” said Tyler.
“You’re serious?” answered the daemon incredulously.
Tyler slapped himself mentally. Of course, the daemon would protest. Sometimes, Asag could be as impatient as a child. But he had to put his foot down just to make sure things went as planned.
“Look, I am worried about Eira, and I want some news about her. I don’t want her host to start having bad ideas,” he emphasized.
The daemon looked at Tyler for a while, then nodded, to the mage’s relief.
“Where am I supposed to stay while you’re inside?” Asag asked after a few seconds.
“Not in the meeting place. Somewhere where the fellow won’t be able to sense your presence,” replied the mage.
“Well, that wouldn’t be too difficult. The blasted place is full of bizarre magical signatures,” commented the daemon.
The main village
When the group finally caught sight of the settlement, it was a relief and a disappointment at the same time. The village had tall wooden posts for walls and a large gate, yet ramshackle would be the kind word to describe their condition. Some of the logs of the palisade were already precariously leaning at various angles. Worse, the hinges of the half-open gate looked dangerously misaligned.
Two napping sentries guarded the entrance, clad in what appeared to be mixed sets of leather armor. Their helmets looked to be of the same material and likewise braced with iron bands. Rounding off their armament were long, thick spears, though Tyler strongly doubted the rust had been scraped off the metal. Travelers must be few and far between, mused the mage.
But the morale of the party was high. Civilization of a sort had been found, and if Asag was to be believed, a tavern, hopefully with an inn, could be found within the village. As they neared the gate, Tyler could see one guard slap the other awake. The mage meaningfully looked at Kobu, and the exile moved to the front. The ranger went to the rear and positioned himself at the mage’s side.
“Good call, sire,” said a grinning Habrok. “No telling what Tyndur would say or do. I don’t think he even knows the language.”
“Tyndur’s diplomatic skills are dangerously volatile. I guess everyone could agree on that fact. I hope he doesn’t butt in and cause a ruckus. My feet are killing me, even after light healing spells, and I’d appreciate a roof over our heads for once,” replied Tyler.
After a few minutes, the mage saw Kobu hand over a few coins to the guards, and the einherjar looked back and waved everyone forward. Asag was at the rear of the group, but Tyler observed the daemon kept his distance from the scrawny and dirty looking sentries.
Once they had passed the gates, the mage suddenly felt a faint surge of energy and looked back at the gate. The sentries couldn’t be seen, being behind the unopened half of the gate. Asag moved forward and walked beside him.
“You felt that?” the daemon asked excitedly in a low voice.
“Yes. I was wondering what that was,” replied Tyler.
“It’s a signal. I saw a guard breaking a small object in half. I guess somebody left instructions with them. But I wonder how those men knew which group to look for?” wondered Asag.
“Well, it’s not as if there’s a rush of people going to this place, and it could be that those guards were merely told to send a signal if and when strangers arrived. It doesn’t necessarily mean we’re specifically targeted,” said Tyler.
“True,” agreed the musing daemon. “I guess I don’t have to go back and rip their intestines out and then ram it down their throats.”
“What the?” exclaimed Tyler, who was able to catch himself from shouting out loud.
“No problems, Asag. We’re here to meet somebody and get some rest. You won’t be able to drink any liquor if you lay waste to this village,” the mage told the daemon sternly.
The mage believed he got through the daemon but also thought it was the reminder of the possible loss of the tavern which got Asag to take the instruction seriously. The group continued to follow Kobu’s lead and eventually found the so-called inn.
It was a large structure, though the long years of neglect and inadequate maintenance now showed their toll. The mage reflected that it must have been a grand building during its heyday. Tyler looked at Asag who merely smiled and walked off in a different direction.
Another scrying spell and the mage was deluged with numerous magical reflections, none directly threatening. Some were of the regular sort, others odd discharges he couldn’t identify, and a few were either of a dark or prurient nature. Even the air smelled different. Chemicals and strange effluents gave it a faint metallic and bitter atmosphere. Worse, it left a slight harsh aftereffect in one’s nose and throat.
The village might look like another woebegone settlement in the boondocks, but its residents were clearly magical practitioners or experimenters. The mage did consider he could have picked up the magical signs of the results of warped and insane experiments. Still, Tyler decided as long as they didn’t threaten the group, then he’d stick to a live-and-let-live policy. No point in fighting a useless fight.
***
The inside of the tavern was no different from the exterior. It had a high ceiling, an ample space occupied by tables and corner nooks, but despite the sunlight pouring through the large windows and upper casements, it gave off a dismal, unused air. If not for the solitary bartender and two tables, each occupied by a pair of guests, one could be forgiven for thinking the place had been abandoned. Still, the chipped ornate wood decorations and the occasional tarnished metal ornamentation gave off a memory of withered grandeur. A very faded one.
Tyler glanced at the other guests as Kobu and Habrok went to the barkeep while Tyndur led the way to a large corner table protected by solid walls instead of dangerous windows. They were clearly local inhabitants. A pair was drinking ale, while the other two were playing some kind of board game. Their entrance was greeted by mild disinterest, and the other guests soon went back to what they were doing. That surprised the mage. He’d expected more interest in the presence of strangers.
“I believe people here are on focused on their own interests, or have learned not to give a flying shit about newcomers. This region is an exception to one’s usual expectations about settlements, after all,” replied Tyndur when the mage asked him.
“And I believe they haven’t even dusted the place for a very long time,” commented Astrid as she sneezed. “There’s dust everywhere. Even the ale might be a quarter full of it.”
Eventually, the exile and the ranger rejoined them. The place had plenty of rooms to let, though hard beds and bare furnishings awaited those interested. The exile got them rooms, and there were no other guests, except for one Greek. At the comment, the companions exchanged glances. Then Habrok volunteered the information he had ordered mead and ale for everybody, a statement which immediately got Tyndur and Astrid laughing, a reaction that entailed an explanation from the Valkyrie.
“Oh, they get their liquor from local brewers. It’s clean and quite good too. They even deliver to people too busy to get out of their houses. There must be some mages or artisans here making liquor on the side as a source of income,” said the ranger.
“I am not surprised,” commented Kobu. “From what I know, magical ingredients are expensive. Especially exotic reagents. But the demand must be huge. Trading with the dwarves must also be an on-going concern. Probably on specified days. But not during times of war, of course.”
“That explained the question about what brand do we prefer. Must be mages trying to outdo the other in becoming liquor suppliers,” replied Habrok.
“Let me test the drinks first. No telling if somethin
g addicting has been added to the mixture,” said the mage.
“Oh, the barkeep mentioned something about having engaged a mage for the same purpose. It’s a deceitful way of ensuring demand, according to him. He has to play fair, otherwise, he’d be inviting magic bolts to level the inn. But I agree, sire. Let’s test it ourselves,” grinned the ranger.
Their drinks passed Tyler’s test, though he had his guides examine them. He didn’t know anything about magical potions and ingredients anyway. Satisfied and happy looks greeted him after the first round of drinks. Exclamations running the gamut of I’ve missed that! and Ahhh! Needed that, and variations of the same rose from the gathered crowd. Tyler himself had a small glass of mead. The einherjar couldn’t wait for the bartender to come to the table for their order and walked off toward the source of the wanted brews.
Then the door of the tavern opened, and a familiar figure walked in. As the man looked around, obviously trying to find someone, Tyler reflected on the curious fact that the arrival of the entity never registered on his magical senses. He just appeared, acted like an ordinary human, and unless one was powerful enough on the magical scale, you’d never know it was the legendary wandering scribe. The newcomer finally saw them and headed toward their group. Lumeri smiled at the staring Tyler.
Chapter Thirteen:
Smoke and Mirrors
Kobu recognized the old man and moved aside to give him space at the table. At the exile’s movements, the tension that had gripped the table eased. The exile shouted at Tyndur to add another order of mead after asking Lumeri as to his preference.
“Ah, it’s good to sit down once in a while, Archmage,” said the visitor.
“What brings you here today, Lumeri? I admit I was surprised to see you,” replied the mage. “Not to mention the fact that your manner of travel appeared instantaneous. I’ve noticed it before, but never got to ask you about it.”
The Accidental Archmage: Book Seven (Dragons and Demons) Page 15