Into the Light (Axe Druid Book 1)

by Christopher Johns

  James grabbed it and tore it open. Inside was a pair of the same sort of padded breeches that Balmur and I had been given. Underneath was a pair of sandals that looked like our Ursolon boots.

  “Demitrinus!” Svartlan called.

  An Elf servant, almost indistinguishable from the others that had come along, stepped forward. Seriously, the guy looked average as hell for an Elf. Forgettable even. He bowed slightly as he stood beside the Orc.

  “He makes art. Under my watchful eye and with your approval, he will make art of your bare upper body,” Svartlan explained.

  “How?” James asked cautiously.

  “Tattoos, of course. Yes, yes, I know you feel that your scales will be mussed, but I assure you, it will be fine.”

  “If it’s just to look stylish, no.” He shook his head at the tailor.

  “His inking may look good, but it is so much more. He uses the blood of monsters and other alchemical creations to give his artwork power. You would be well outfitted, and, according to my research and that of my servants, there are many Monks who sport such artistry.”

  He looked uncertain, then looked back to the rest of us.

  “I’m kind of jealous, but I’m branded already, so I’m good. I say go for it,” I said, showing my palms and the elemental marks on them.

  “Dude, love tattoos.” Bokaj grinned and touched his arms where he had several in our own world. Jaken nodded along.

  “It’ll help, right? Go for it, man,” Balmur finished.

  “Better be cool as fuck. What kind of ink were you thinking?” Yohsuke asked.

  “We have some made from the blood of some of the animals who made your new attire, and we thought that defensive would be best.”

  “Hey Zeke, think Kayda would want to make a contribution?” James asked.

  “We can always ask. Let’s take this party to Thogan’s yard. He should be able to make us a table.”

  We left the room we were in and went on the track to the Stone Dwarf’s haunt. When we arrived, Thogan was swinging his axe in practiced, precise motions through a complicated and deadly-looking form. I’d seen work like this back when I had practiced martial arts.

  “Thogan, you mind if we kick it here for a while?” Balmur asked.

  “Don’ know what ye’ll be kickin’ but aye, ye can stay.” He smiled at us. Jaken came in last, and the Dwarf eyed him before walking over to stand in front of him.

  “Yer Clan Mugfist then?” he questioned him in a low tone.

  “Yes I am.”

  The Dwarf eyed him longer this time. The silence was thick in the air. The rest of us had seen what this small man was capable of. I’d been at the end of his axe myself. This was going to get ugly if it did.

  Thogan put his hand forward, and Jaken took the offered handshake. The Dwarf pulled the larger man down into a very awkward hug and hopped from foot to foot in glee. He began to sing a Dwarvish tune in his gravely bass voice. He raised a table like the one he made before, and James sat down.

  I touched my necklace and willed Kayda to come out and stretch. She shook her long feathers out and greeted the party briefly before taking wing in the little space this room had to offer.

  “Oh, she be a real beauty, lad,” Thogan said with wonder in his voice.

  “Yes she is! Oh, she’s perfect! Tell me her name, Zekiel.” Svartlan almost jumped onto my shoulders trying to get me to answer him. “Kayda? Oh, it’s so simple it hurts, but she wears it so well! Come here, darling!”

  I called to her through our bond, and she came to land beside me. Svartlan made to touch her, and before I could warn him, he made contact. The shock I expected to come simply didn’t. Curious.

  He called me beautiful, she explained in my mind. Ah, that made sense. I see that flattery worked well with her. Gonna have to have a talk about that. Jealous, she crooned softly.

  I blushed and pushed her playfully. She pecked back but missed me on purpose.

  I explained the situation, and though the idea of pain didn’t seem attractive, she consented.

  “How much do you need?” I asked Demitrinus.

  “Freely given? Not much, maybe enough to fill this small jar.” Even his voice was bland. Wow. He held out a small cup made of glass like a jar slightly larger than that of a thimble.

  He pulled out a box, similar to Thogan’s own, and laid out his tools on a cloth he pulled from it. There was a needle, much like the one used on me and Balmur, then a larger one, too. Both were made of diamond and looked sharp. Expertly made.

  “This will take time,” the Elf stated.

  “Why don’t you all go get dressed, and we will meet you soon?” Svartlan said.

  “I’ll stay. You guys go get dressed, and then Zeke can come back and trade me,” Yohsuke said. He gave Svartlan a look that brooked no argument.

  We complied. We took our time, bathing before we got dressed. The water was scented with oils and perfumes. Enough to hurt my nose, but at least we smelled good.

  One of the servants took me, now dressed in my new gear, back to my friends. Yoh was standing near the door and nodded to me as the servant took him back to get ready. I stood vigil in the same place, leaning against the wall and eyeing the proceedings from my spot. A grunt here and there, sometimes a soft curse. It was pretty boring.

  I must have dozed off for a second because I felt a thud and I was sitting on a raised stone bench. Thogan sat next to me, a smile on his face.

  “He’s almost finished up now. Yer bird’s been watchin’ over him like a, well, bird,” he said sheepishly. “Ye can go an look now, if ye like.”

  I nodded and wandered over. What I saw was interesting to say the least. Not ink I would have chosen.

  The first marking I noticed was the one on his back. A set of black wings with gold feathers that started in the center of his upper back, rose to his shoulders, and then swept down to his lower back. As I moved closer, I walked to my left to get a better look at the rest of his upper body. His arms had spiraling blue bands that began on his inner arm at the crease of his forearm and wrapped around, intersecting and crossing until they stopped at the wrist. His stomach had two grey tattoos, one on each side beside his abdominal muscles that looked like horns, thick at the bottom and curving into a wicked, pointed tip. The final markings I saw were two black swirls on his pecs, darker than the scales that covered some of his body. They were about six inches wide, and the lines were an inch thick at the widest.

  “Pretty wild, huh?” I chuckled at him. He grimaced and nodded slightly. The process was going quickly enough; Demitrinus was sure in his work and was very dexterous from the looks of things. He chanted under his breath as he went, and the ink seemed to spread a little wider and farther than just the point of his tools. Magic at its finest right there. Could have done with that on my own tattoos. Rite of passage aside, it still stung like hell, and the healing process was a pain in the ass.

  “What do you think, man?” James smiled slight, then grimaced as the Elf finished the right arm and moved back to his kit. “They picked specific parts from the animals, and the designs on my chest and arms are to help channel energy into what I want. Uh, theoretically speaking.”

  “I think they look good, man. It’s not what I would pick, but it’s not my body.” I raised my eyebrows and sent a telepathic Mental Message reminding him that it wasn’t his real one either. He nodded back.

  I glanced and noticed that the he had moved on to Kayda’s blood in the little cup. He muttered a few words, made a symbol with his hand and began to pour liquid from a small flask into the cup. Stirring it, he muttered a few more words, and it began to glow before changing to a now-blue color. The shade was the same as Kayda’s feathers.

  “What did you do?” I questioned, my curiosity piqued.

  “The spell makes the blood more pliant to the reagent additive I put in,” Dimetrinus droned. “The reagent makes the magical effect the blood gives permanent, or at least last as long as the marking lasts. Some marking
s may fade over time depending on the race, abilities of the individual, and the skill of the artist, and before you ask, I have not had any of mine fade.”

  “Fair point, man. Please, don’t let me interrupt you.”

  The artist just grunted before dipping the tip of his needle into the concoction and going about his business.

  “Best to let him work, Zekiel.” Svartlan yawned. “This last bit will be tricky.”

  I nodded and payed my friend a smile before I went back over to Thogan. We sat, and he asked me to tell him about my time with the Dwarves. I recounted it all to him, and he smiled at the stories. Even laughed with me when I told him about the crone who taught me to enchant. He did get a little quiet when I told him what happened with Garen, the racist Dwarf.

  “That was a great dishonor that he paid his clan and our Way,” Thogan said. “Got to apologize for that, lad. There are some of all races and creeds who don’ like outsiders or other races. That doesn’t reflect well on any clan, let alone under the rules of hospitality. That’s a grave disrespect. She would be well within her rights to kick him out on his arse.”

  “Oh, whatever she’s doing, I’m certain he’s paying for it right now.” I smiled, probably more cruelly than I should have, but it was genuine. “She’s a cruel bitch, she is. She was just training me, and I wanted out of the clan. I can’t imagine what it would be like to actually earn her wrath.”

  Thogan laughed heartily at that. “Think I should like to meet this’un.”

  “Oh, I doubt that.” I laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “Wanna lead me through some great axe exercises?”

  He nodded eagerly and pushed the range of the room away from the working guests. Once we were far enough away, he had me bring out Storm Caller and go through some motions that I had seen him doing slowly and with purpose. He corrected me on a few things: widened my stance a bit on an overhead chop, had me lean back a bit on a wide, horizontal swing, hand positioning, and even some theories on movement and attack styles. He remarked that it was uncommon for a Druid to use a weapon like mine, and that gave me pause. Granted, I knew why from a gamer standpoint, but I wondered why he thought as much, so I asked during a small break.

  “Well, yer usually one fer casting spells.” He splayed his hands like he was casting. It made me chuckle. “What I knows about magic users is they tend to not be as, er, burly as yerself. They don’t like the front lines.”

  “They’re squishy,” I interjected.

  “Exactly!” He clapped. “They takes a beaten like a wee fruit, no offense meant, lad.” I smiled and waved it off. “That, and they tend to spend all their points fer mana and spell strength, not that I blame’em.”

  “A term we like to use is ‘Glass Cannon’,” I suggested. The ancient Dwarf looked at me as if I had gone daft. “You might be able to fire it a couple times to great effect, but it doesn’t take much to destroy it.”

  “Aye, lad.” He nodded his understanding. “If ye know’d that, why are ye swingin’ the axe? I mean no disrespect, ye swing her well, but it don’t make sense.”

  “I like to be a little more hands on than a lot of magic users, I guess.” I didn’t want to divulge things that I couldn’t, but I tried to put it to him in a way he would get. “I like to be as well rounded as I can. I wasn’t always with my party, either, so I didn’t want to be so easily done in. Since I found that I would be working with my friends, I’ve kind of been trying to fill out whatever role it is that the group needed. I can heal a little bit, fight up close and from afar, and I even picked up enchanting to help my friends with their crafted goods. My role is kind of fluid and ever changing. It seems a bit more fun that way, you know?”

  “No, I don’t.” Thogan grinned. “My lot are warriors. We live and fall by the blade or good mead… or a good woman… or a bad one—we are only so picky. But the wee bit of magic we know, we use to our advantage in battle, but it be scarce. Not many of me brothers would be able to do what ye do so selflessly. Ye be a good lad, Zeke. Ye be well along the Way.”

  I felt my face heat for a moment at his praise. Was it selfless? I didn’t know about that; it was kind of what I would do in almost any game my friends and I played. I was too lazy to pick a play style and stick with it because I was too curious about other ways of doing things. Well, I don’t know about lazy, more indecisive, which sounded a lot more me than I should have been comfortable with. Whatever.

  “I don’t know about that, but I am a team player. I was taught a motto by my leaders—Semper Gumby. It means ‘always be flexible’. My ability to fill in the gaps for my friends makes me happy.” I gave the Dwarf a cheesy grin and laughed. He joined me. We spent a few more minutes refining my technique while we waited, then the rest of the group joined us except for Yoh.

  “Where’s Yoh?” I asked.

  “The queen came and nabbed him before he could bathe and change. Something about a gift that he may find worthwhile?” Bokaj supplied.

  “I have no idea, but has anyone checked up on him?” I questioned, suddenly worried.

  “Earrings aren’t working.” Balmur shrugged. “He can handle himself. Seems like he freaks a lot of people out. I know he did with the werewolves. They didn’t even want to fuck with him too much.”

  True, I thought to myself. Yohsuke could be a scary motherfucker if you got on his bad side.

  “Gonna have to wait and go with the flow then,” James said and winced as he stood from the table. “Finally done. Can I heal myself?”

  “Yes, actually. Ki would be best used, due to the magics in the ink itself.” The Elf cleaned and cleared his tools from the stone slab of a table. He stood and bowed to us, then looked to Svartlan who dismissed him. We thanked him as he passed, but he didn’t seem to genuinely care.

  “Our Darkest Lady will return from her sojourn with your friend as soon as she can,” The Orc smiled at us sweetly. “She has taken him to her private study.”

  “Where is that?” I asked.

  “The dungeons,” he shrugged, “or at least right next to them.”

  “Oh FUCK no, Snake,” I cursed and crossed the space between us. “You will take me there. Now.”

  “She said you may worry and that you alone could come. The others will stay with me and learn the appropriate etiquette for this evening’s affair. Thogan will escort you.”

  I looked to the Dwarf who had his great axe in hand and a grim expression on his face. “Business be this, lad. Let us go.”

  The others in the party looked toward me and gave me nods of approval, and I took off behind my guide.

  We jogged through the labyrinthian hallways and passages until we came to a guarded door. Two suits of armor covered in frost—no, made of frost—stood on each side of the double doors with their halberds crossed before it. Thogan grunted at them inarticulately, and they moved out of the way with a small dusting of ice shavings falling off where they moved, like the joints had frozen in place.

  “Gotta know how to talk to ‘em,” he chortled. Then adopted his business-like countenance. “Ready yerself. It gets a mite bit dreadful from this point on.”

  I gave him a terse nod and waited as he opened the door on the right. When he did, a wall of stench burst forth and hit my nose like I had actually sprinted into the side of a building. “It gets worse, lad. So much worse. Come.”

  I followed Thogan into the dark, dank depths of the stairwell we were in. As we walked on, the door we used to enter slammed shut, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have that whole ‘cartoon horror movie’ vibe going on. I felt the darkness around us begin to creep in on us and had to fight my body’s natural reaction to freeze and look for threats. I was the threat here. We took the stairs slowly, as they were unevenly spaced and crudely cut. It seemed like a defensive tactic that, if I weren’t about to shit myself due to fear, I might have appreciated.

  “It’s not a natural fear, lad,” Thogan said. “It be a sorcery. Allows the queen to make magic of the prisoners’ suff
ering.”

  Moral conundrums aside, it seemed industrious, but I just couldn’t bring myself to care until I knew my friend was safe. The moaning and groaning was low and constant. I could hear voices crying, cackling laughter, and mumbling from the insane, infirm, or both. It was not a pleasant sound. The whole place felt like it was festering.

  We came to the bottom of this set of stairs, then took another off to our left. Five minutes later, we took another set that seemed to break from the wall and go into open space. The closest wall on each side was fifteen or so feet away. There was a landing that branched off in three routes: one in the center that lead straight down, and the others branched away from that set at an angle left and right. Those two looked more faded and foggy. False stairs—they were an illusion that my eyes found. I stayed quiet about it, though.

  “False stairs here, they be illusions.” Thogan grunted and moved on.

  I grinned and followed along. That must mean he trusts me. Or he trusts his queen’s choice in friends.

  Eventually we came to a door covered in runes and locked shut. “We’re at the door, Mae,” I whispered, and it opened on its own. It creaked open loudly, louder than even I thought it should have, and we walked in. The inside was brightly lit in comparison to the rest of the surroundings. It was almost to the level of a hospital’s fluorescent lighting. The ceiling was covered in bright ice, and a center spot of black in the middle was situated over a deep basin that flowed into the floor. A drip left the black spot, and it fell into the basin and drained away.

  “Hello, my friend,” Maebe greeted me warmly from her seat to my left. I looked, and there were shelves with books and bottles that were clearly labeled behind her; her desk was very neat as well. The room smelled as clinical as a hospital as well and had a wooden door in the rear that stood slightly ajar.

  “Hi. Where is Yohsuke?”

  “He is in the next room, communing with a Demon.”

  “Oh oka–A FUCKING WHAT?!” Her tone had been so nonchalant that I almost shrugged it off, too. I didn’t even wait for an answer—I began to move toward the door.