by Dilland Doe
The king stood in a sweaty silk shirt and pants. Finio forced himself to not react to the man’s stench.
“Tomorrow morning,” the king said, “I’ll have guards escort you back to the market. If you’re interested, they’ll buy a communicator for you. My men could be so much stronger with a wizard on their side. Most of the Citian city-states have court wizards now. I’m one of the few that still doesn’t. Even my quaint neighbors, Peropolis and Tarsens, have wizards. I’m tired of their bragging. Find a high being who can make my nobles stronger. Maybe you and Kericles can make a great warrior-wizard team.”
I wish I brought a Scripture of Blasphemy. Maybe there’s a loophole…
Finio imagined himself wielding mysterious and forbidden power, releasing a rush of adrenaline up his chest. He smiled. “King Itus, I’ll do my best.”
Smirking, he glanced at his wife. “You Hyzantrians.” He shook his head. “I don’t mind, son, but nobles in Citia will expect you to call them by their last name…and you can call me Uncle.”
Oh yeah, dang it. “Thank you, Uncle Sannacles.”
Ch. 9
Music and laughter filled the grand hall as flat-tummy bar-maidens brought food and filled drinks. Several small tables surrounded a long one where the king sat in the middle. To his left sat the queen, and on his right was an ambassador from the largest of the Citian city-states: Petra. Across from the king sat Kericles and Finio. Between the tables, people danced, some of them swinging giant mugs of ale. While most of the people drank beer or water, Herania sipped wine from her tall, crystal glass.
The center-group chowed down on huge turkey legs and fish. Kericles swigged down a gulp of beer. “Man, cousin. It’s too bad you didn’t arrive a year earlier. You could have come adventuring with me to The Torn Lands in a few weeks. My brother defeated a group of Croniums who outnumbered him three to one. And, he held a swath of territory for months, until he decided to come home.”
The king and queen glanced at each other. Then stared at their son as he tore into another fish. Herania nudged her husband with her elbow, then gave him a brief glare.
After swallowing, the king said, “Son, a lot of growth can happen between sixteen and eighteen. I’ve decided you will wait two more years before you go.”
“What!” Fish flew out of Kericles’s mouth. “Arcadius and Lysander went at sixteen! I’m already a way better fighter than Lysander will ever be!”
His mother leaned toward him. “Lysander knows caution.”
Kericles jumped to his feet. His chair tipped backwards, slamming into the ground. “You guys can’t do this to me. I’m a prince. I must have glory!”
“I,” Herania said, “only allow any of my sons to go for experience, not for glory. I won’t have my baby boy brought to me on a shield for damn glory.”
The Citian men around her stopped and stared at her, some with wide eyes and open mouths, others with glares. She glanced to the side, releasing air before covering her mouth with her beautifully slender hand.
The king spoke in a deep voice. “My decision is final.” He pointed toward the fallen chair with his thick finger. “Sit down.” His stern eyes and unwavering jaw struck a tinge of fear into Finio.
Kericles picked up the chair and sat before focusing on his partially eaten fish.
The bald Petraian ambassador smirked toward the king. “I forced my sons to wait a few years longer than they wanted. For it, they almost led an insurrection against me. But in the end, they obeyed, got a few extra years of combat training, and kicked some serious butt in The Torn Lands.”
King Sannacles lifted his mug. “Hear Hear.” Him and the ambassador clinked cups before swigging down more beer.
After scanning the people around him with a warm smile, the ambassador focused on the king. “Despite the differences between our city-states, we’re still Citian. We share a common culture, and must keep all Citia strong by maintaining the Citian League’s unity.”
The jovial relaxation left the king’s face, replaced by business.
The ambassador continued, “I’m happy to join the celebration for your adopted son, but we do need to continue our discussion, which was the original point to this feast.”
The king drank, then nodded as he banged his mug down on the table. “Speak.”
“We can’t let The League be played against one another by foreign powers. If the Hyzantrians want a trade deal, then let’s leverage our power and have them negotiate with the council. Hyzantria is a great empire. We’re just a bunch of city-states. Together, we can negotiate from a position of strength. But if we do it one by one, we’ll lose our Citian freedom and become nothing more than larger nations’ areas of influence.”
The king rubbed his chin, nodding.
Holding his hand out, palm up, the ambassador said, “I understand your special connection to Hyzantria.” He smiled warmly at the Queen and Finio. “I’m not one to be bigoted about that. And I want all the city-states to have friendly relationships with the east. But that is no reason not to stand together as Citians.”
Herania crossed her arms. “If you aren’t bigoted toward me, you are a rare one.”
Turning toward his wife, the king smiled lovingly and caressed her shoulder. “You’re the most precious creature on this planet. Anyone who insults you is insulting me, and our entire city.”
He leaned toward her for a kiss. He closed his eyes and pushed his lips into hers while she puckered her lips, passively accepting his kiss. He rubbed her shoulder, surprisingly gently for the burly warrior king. Her arms remained at her sides.
The king released the kiss, then gazed into his wife for a moment, holding an appreciative smile. He turned toward the ambassador. “The Hyzantrians are our allies. If the council doesn’t start trading with them on even terms, then I will.”
The ambassador held out his drink. “All I ask for is time. The League will make a deal.”
The King clinked the cup before both men drank.
Finio thought, I didn’t realize Kericles and I are both sixteen.
Ch. 10
The next morning, Finio laid in bed, completely alert and thinking of what would happen with the talking animals. Were his parents really maleefa? Could he really use the power of demons? Was there any way The Divinity would approve of this?
After eating a few eggs and toast, brought to him by servants, he walked through the city toward the docks. Guards in chainmail strode on each side of him. The butthole guard from yesterday stood at the archway between the inner-city and the docks. Finio thought of making a snide comment, but resisted.
The talking animal market consisted of a series of tables stretched along the side of the stone path leading up a hill toward the inner city. A single shopkeeper stood behind the tables. From about ten yards away, Finio heard the animals.
“Fire. Fire! I can grant you the power of flame, talk to me!”
“Let’s make the world a better place. We can strengthen structures for people to live in.”
“Affect the minds of others. Spur their emotions so they achieve your goals.”
“Boy. Your energy does not have to be contained within you. Blast it from your body. You could even fly with a lot of practice.”
What’s going on?
The shopkeeper walked toward the side of the market Finio approached from. “Lord Arrassio, the king’s messenger tells me you’re a novice wizard. The look on your face says you’ve never even had your first communicator.”
“Yes, sir. That’s right.”
“Well, what do you want to do with your magic?”
Finio thought of his dad. “I want to make world a better place. I want help others.”
The shopkeeper opened his mouth to speak, but a guard spoke first. “The king wants a support-mage for his son.”
A voice came from a bat right in front of Finio. “I’ve worked with many healers before. Choose me and we can save lives.”
Finio contorted his mouth as he stared at the b
at. Its claws clung to the top of the cage, its demon-like wings folded upward, and its bulgy brown eyes protruded from its rat-like face.
“Don’t look at me like that! This is just the communicator animal. If you don’t like it, get the appropriate materials and pay a ritual mage to connect me with a different animal.”
“Uuuuuuh. Okay.”
Finio walked down the tables, talking to animals, especially ones the shopkeeper pointed out as high beings who would help a wizard support warriors.
Finio came upon a furry rabbit-mouse looking thing with big, round ears and a round body and head. “Woa, what type of animal this?”
The shopkeeper smiled. “It’s a chinchilla. Cute isn’t it?”
Finio nodded.
The shopkeeper’s face going serious, he said, “Don’t focus on the animal. It just allows you to talk to the high being. Focus on the high being.”
Finio looked at the man. “Do you have any that speak Hyzantrian?”
He shook his head ‘no’.
A voice came from the cute animal. “Hey! I’m Kwitty. I’m up for learning a new language if you’re up for making your friends stronger. I can increase the strength, speed, and accuracy of humans.”
Finio talked to Kwitty briefly before moving on. He came back to the bat.
“I think I want this one. I want to heal the sick. And, a flying communicator might be useful.”
The shopkeeper lifted the cage to his eyes. “Uuuuuh, that might not be true. The high being speaks through the animal, but has absolutely no control over it.”
Finio frowned. “Then how do I stop my communicator from flying away?”
Tapping the bat’s cage with a finger, the shopkeeper gave Finio a smug look.
The man set the cage down. “Healing is a great art, that’ll be five-hundred drachs.”
The guard jerked forward. “Five-hundred!? That’s all the king gave us.”
The shopkeeper smiled. “I know. Might as well pay up, it’s not like you get to keep the rest.”
“You thieving monkey!” the guard said, holding up a clenched fist.
Leaning back and putting his hands open in front of him, the shopkeeper said, “Woa. This high being has worked with three successful adventurers. You heard the exploits of Hercalas the Great?”
The guard stared at the shopkeeper, who nodded and said, “Yeah, he did that with this guy. This is an experienced and proven high being here.”
The guard scowled. “It’s still too expensive, and the king doesn’t want a healer. Lord Arrassio, choose a different one.”
Finio stared at the disgusting bat. “Sorry, maybe when I have more money I’ll get you later.”
The voice came from the bat. “The name is Mry Chistmas. Until we meet again.”
Finio went back to the chinchilla. “How about this one?”
“Uuuuuuh, one-hundred drachs.”
Finio blinked. “Why so much cheaper?”
“Because I like ya!” The shopkeeper thrust a fist across his chest.
“You won’t regret this,” Kwitty said, “Don’t worry about the chinchilla, just keep him caged and be gentle with him. He’ll warm up to you! And, I don’t ask for much. I’m just curious about your world. I wanna try my hand at influence!”
Finio smiled. “And the animal’s so cute! Okay, I’ll take it!”
The guard paid, and the keeper handed Finio the cage, locking eyes with Finio. “Chinchillas require extra care. It only eats high quality pellets or seeds. He won’t be able to process most meat or too many green plants.”
“Where am—”
“That’s not all. They need lots of hay. Lots. They waste seventy-five percent of their hay for no reason. They’re prone to disease; you need to boil all its drinking water. You’ll need to find it a private spot so it can get away. They’re moody and overheat easily. Watch out for the urine, it’s as strong as decaying bodies. And they poop…a lot. You know, in small little pellets. They’re not the most careful pets, watch out, they will destroy things. Oh! And they must take baths in powder. They roll around in it; it can be kinda messy.”
Finio stood still, staring at the shopkeeper with an open mouth. “Uuuuuuh.”
Lifting up a finger, the shopkeeper said, “And be careful not to get it wet.”
Finio lifted the cage to his face, the little fluffy squirrel-looking creature stared at him with circular black eyes.
Kwitty spoke. “Hey! I don’t like it either. But this is the only thing ritualized solely to me on this planet. Don’t worry, kid. We’ll figure it out.”
The two guards and Finio turned back toward the inner city.
“Sir,” Finio said, “I can take those four hundred drachs back to the king for you.”
The man responded, “That won’t be necessary.”
Finio crossed his arms. “Uh huh.”
Ch. 11
Entering his chamber of the keep, Finio placed the cage on a table and sat in a chair. He stared at the fluffy creature. It stared back.
“I bet you’re soft.”
He pulled up a little latch that secured the cage.
Kwitty said, “You probably shouldn’t open the—” The animal jumped through the cage door and landed on the ground. “Crap.”
Finio’s eyes shot toward the room’s open door. He leapt to his feet and stood between the doorway and the litte creature, staring down at it. “Don’t run away, I won’t hurt you.” He reached back for the door handle.
The chinchilla leapt right over Finio who, trying to catch it, clapped his hands together above his head. He snapped around. The chinchilla hopped down the castle hallway.
“Dang it. Come back!” Finio ran after it.
He turned a corner, but didn’t see the creature. What would he tell the king if he lost the communicator that the king paid for?
Kwitty’s voice came from the right. “I’m in here!”
Finio entered a room. A few workers came in through a side door from what smelled like a kitchen. They grabbed a few pots, then exited.
“Up here!”
Finio looked up at a row of pots that were arrayed on a shelf in different shapes and colors.
“It’s blue in here!”
From where the muffled voice came from, stood a round, blue pot. It bulged out in the middle, being thinner at the top and bottom. Finio jumped and grabbed the pot, pulling it away from the shelf before he descended.
He looked inside where the chinchilla lay curled up.
Holding out his hand, Finio said, “Come out little guy, c’mon.”
It didn’t move.
Finio left with the pot, walking back toward his room. After he turned a corner, steps slammed off the floor, coming in his direction.
Kericles sprinted toward him. “Cousin, cousin!”
Finio stood still, holding the blue pot.
Kericles leapt, then landed in front of Finio. “My brother agreed to duel me with my new support mage!”
“Uuuuuuuh, I have no idea how to use the high being’s magic yet.”
“Ha!” Kericles jerked upward, showing an open-mouth smile. “The best way to learn is by fire.”
#
Finio followed his cousin to a colosseum, then scanned the empty stands before examining the patchy grass on the ground. Two servants entered, carrying estra-armor hanging in pieces from a rod. The huge chest piece glowed green.
They began latching the greaves and armored boots onto Kericles, who smiled at his cousin. “Did anyone get your measurements? You can’t be a noble male of a Citian family without a set of estra armor.”
“No. No measurements for me.”
The servants each took a side of the chest plate. Finio stared at the glow that radiated from the edges and the green mist rising above it. He knew they got that stuff from Hyzantria, but The Divinity forbids it. True followers should rely on him, not magic ore.
After latching the chest to the legs, the servants strapped on the back and arms. Only the helmet r
emained. As it was fastened onto Kericles’s head, a rush of muffled air sounded from the armor. The invincible metal covered every part of Kericles.
Heavy steps came from the arena’s entrance. Arriving in full armor, Arcadius marched onto the battlefield. He stood a foot and a half taller than his younger brother, was twice as thick, experienced in Torn Lands battle, and four years older. Two squires followed behind him, each wearing chainmail and grimacing as they held wooden poles that connected to a rack of weapons between them.
They set the rack down at a side of the arena. Arcadius carried a two-handed poleaxe. He held the stave with two hands. At the weapon’s head, an axe extended out to one side, and a flat metal protrusion stuck out the other. The long spike that extended from a Hyzantrian poleaxe was absent; no spike could break through estra armor. At the end of the weapon was another square protrusion. He spun the huge weapon. It blurred in front of him before he snapped a leg back and stood in a battle position, the weapon held over his shoulder, ready to slam down on his little brother’s head. A thick stabbing dagger and a flanged mace hung from his waist.
Finio’s jaw hung open. “Kericles. Your armor basically invincible, right? I mean, this duel completely safe?”
Kericles’s eyes stared at Finio through the thin slit in his helmet. “Well, he could stab through my visor. Or if he has a very thin and well-aimed blade, he could slice through the ventilation shafts on my chest and back.”
“Huh?”
“It lets the mist out.”
Finio nodded. “Okay, well, good. He doesn’t even have weapon that small or thin.”
A servant handed Kericles two hammers. Each ended with a square hammer on one side and a curved spike on the other. He made a few practice swings with each arm. “He doesn’t need one. A solid hit of heavy metal to the head could easily kill me.”
“Heh. Your brother wouldn’t do that.”
“Not on purpose. The loser is the first to lose a piece of his armor, be knocked out, have the visor penetrated, or to yield. Now use your magic. I’ve never came close to beating my brother one V one.” Kericles turned and strode toward his opponent, who waited for him in the middle of the arena.