The Sword and the Flame: The Forging

by CP Bialois

  The one thing Janessa enjoyed above all else was to be magiked, to feel the power of the spell engulf her and take her wherever it wished. Few things were as thrilling as being levitated, or to feel one’s body pulled and stretched as it traveled through a portal. Viola understood the playful side of the Halfling and indulged her as much as possible. But Viola wasn‘t with her, she’d been killed by the fireball. Janessa was sure of it. Without her anything magical lost all of its appeal.

  A moment earlier she was ready to throw herself into the inferno that consumed her best friend. Now she felt cold earth beneath her feet as they appeared in the street outside the inn far enough back that no one would notice them but not more than twenty feet from the inn. They could see the fire as it burned out a hole where the room had been. More importantly, Berek spotted the one responsible. The others may not have noticed but he‘d correct that even as Janessa struggled in his grip.

  “Let… me… down!” Damn you Berek! Let go!” He kept his grip firm, knowing what she planned to do.

  With Janessa held tight to him Berek grabbed the nearest of the city’s guards holding a bow. “There!” He pointed at Fech’s blurry silhouette through the smoke. “That monster did this! Destroy him!”

  Under normal circumstances the guard would’ve dismissed Berek as drunk, but amidst the chaos he found himself staring at a large man-like shape with wings above them. “Dragon! Archers, fire!” Though the order was crisp and clear, few understood what he meant until they followed the path of his arrow as it sailed just wide of its mark. At the sound of the creature’s furious yell others grabbed their bows but it was too late, their attacker moved out of range.

  Frustrated, but still having a duty to perform, messengers were dispatched to the guard stations along the wall as others, along with citizens, formed a bucket brigade and fought against the fire which had begun to burn itself out.

  As everyone talked about the return of the dragons and the dark magic that came from them, Berek took Janessa into a side alley and set her down on a weather beaten crate. He knelt beside her while trying to piece together what had happened.

  “She never had a chance.” Janessa began to sob, blaming herself. “I never should’ve left her. I could tell something was different today.”

  Berek decided to let her go. It’d be better for her to get out as much as possible. Something about that day was different, but what was it? The mood? The people? The weather? That was it, he realized. This was autumn but so far the day was unseasonably warm. It wasn’t catastrophic but did it mean something? No, he shook his head, he was becoming paranoid.

  But people seemed to be acting different. Renard acted irrationally by allowing Fech to attack in such a manner and Mern was… Mern was what exactly? Prophetic wasn’t right, after all Berek went alone and he was still alive. As antagonizing as that old man could be, he almost seemed excited. In the time he’d known Mern, he never saw him excited about anything. What was he up to?

  “She wanted to be a war mage, did you know that? She always talked about it but she thought she was too much of a bookworm. One time--”

  “Janessa,” He turned to face her, resting a hand over hers. “I don’t think Viola is dead.” Janessa raised her head but he quieted her with a motion of his other hand. “I don’t know how, but I just have a feeling.”

  “Oh Berek that’s wonderful! Wait until the others hear… What’s wrong?”

  It was amazing, he thought, all he ever wanted was his freedom. He never wanted to be any kind of leader and here he was, being just that. What a trickster fate could be. “I need you to tell the others what happened. I have something I have to do.”

  Janessa’s face turned into a mask of solid resolve. “You’re going after that dragon aren’t you?”

  Berek smiled as best he could, “That wasn’t a dragon. They’re far worse.” he wondered to himself how he could be so confident in his last statement. He’d always been told dragons were myths.

  To her credit Janessa understood and nodded her agreement. “Don’t kill him.”

  Berek shook his head, “I only want to question him.”

  “Good.” Janessa smiled wickedly, “When the time comes I want to do it. Viola would understand.” She lowered her eyes to the ground as Berek rubbed her back, hoping he was right.

  Berek stayed with her for another moment or two, she guessed it was to comfort her and make sure she understood what he wanted her to do. She didn’t like it, but she understood. He was going after the creature that did this, to get revenge for her friend. He thought she’d only get in the way and, she admitted to herself, he was right. She could get them both killed before she was able to help.

  In her heart Janessa knew Berek was right, but it didn’t mean she had to like or accept it. She took several deep breaths before letting her eyes rest on the empty hole where her room had been. As dilapidated as that part of Hope was, the inn now stuck out like a sore thumb. With one final glance she turned away and ran through the streets as fast as her legs could carry her.

  The Halfling made remarkable time, a fact she attributed to knowing the back alleys and half streets so well. She made such good time that she even surprised herself when she arrived at the main gate. She planned on using the chaos raging after the attack to slip out of the city unseen. Knowing the people of Hope to be cowards, Janessa planned to use that against them. She would’ve wagered anything that half the population would be hiding in their homes or taverns while the other half would be fleeing the city. Her surprise was so great that no one was trying to leave that she nearly walked into the backside of Sherriff Tavers. She sidestepped and crouched behind a barrel before he noticed her.

  “What was it you thought you were doing Private Tawn?” Janessa hated the Sherriff‘s voice, she wondered why it hadn’t bothered her before then. She did have to admit how someone so paunchy was in charge of young, fit men. Why did they follow him, she wondered while she listening for anything she could use.

  “Nothing sir, just trying to offer my assistance.” The young man had had a rough time of it. His face was still flushed, whether from embarrassment or frustration the Halfling couldn’t tell.

  “Nothing? You were ready to bed that woman, weren’t you?” Tavers turned enough so Janessa could see his pig-like face, battle scared and intimidating as always. Now she understood why they followed him, though she preferred Berek by far.

  The young guard known as Tawn cleared his throat, “With all due respect, you were as well. Sir.” He added the final word a bit too hastily. The lust that burned for the strange woman a few minutes earlier made him bold, if dumber.

  A back hand across the face was Tavers’ reply. The next exchange was too low for her to hear but she caught the gist of it. The guard was on a slippery slope, as she heard the humans say from time to time. She waited for Tavers to leave, an action that only took a minute or so to happen. As she was about to step out from her hiding place, the sound of armored feet caused her to freeze where she was.

  Three armored men passed by her barrel and took up positions by the gate. She strained to hear their conversation but it only lasted a few seconds before they settled into their positions, two inside the gate and two outside. Janessa cursed at her luck. In a few moments they’d close the gate for the night earlier than usual. The Magistrate must be expecting another assault, but what good would a closed gate do against something that could fly?

  Janessa shook her head. There was very little sense in the world that day. She knew what she had to do and hoped she was fast enough. She took a deep breath then stepped out from behind the barrel and walked towards the two interior guards. “Hello there, mind if I pass through?”

  The guard Tavers argued with stood off to the side and was the first to answer her. “Not bloody likely, I’ve had it with you women today. No one comes in, no one goes out.”

  The second guard raised his eyebrows at the tone in his fellow’s voice, wondering what he missed earlier. He had littl
e use for Halflings but if she wanted to leave what could it hurt? Good riddance.

  “Why not? I haven’t done anything wrong?” Janessa’s voice took on a nasally tone.

  “That we know of Halfling, go on home.” Tawn wasn’t in the mood to hear anything at that moment.

  Janessa’s attempts to be civil disappeared, “I can’t, that monster destroyed the inn I was staying at and killed my friend. I’m hunting it.”

  As a rule, if a Halfling stated something of that nature they’d be laughed at but not that day. There was something in her eyes that told the guards she was telling them the truth. With a wave of his hand Tawn waved her through. “Good hunting, my lady.”

  Curious and surprised, Janessa glanced at both before she passed between them. “Thank you.” She said to the young guard, despite his rank he was in charge of the detail.

  He nodded in response then sounded the order, “Close the gates!” The pair of guards outside stepped past Janessa, reentering the city. She was certain then the Magistrate did expect another attack.

  Janessa stopped when she heard the young guard. “Tell your friends I’m sorry.” She turned around in confusion when the heavy wooden door was closed and barred from the inside. It dawned on her that the others, led by Fleir, tried to enter the city earlier. Janessa wondered what she should tell them.

  *****

  The companions remained outside the gates waiting for their friends when they heard the large wooden gate close against the stone wall. It sounded like a crack of lightning in the quiet forest. At hearing the sound, all three leapt to their feet, their eyes locked on the city of Hope and the tiny figure of a Halfling making her way down the beaten road. The look on her face sent shivers of fear up Gilliam’s back. Surprised, he found Fleir’s hand in his. It was cold and sweaty just like his own.

  He was going to say something, but the look of worry on her face caused him to hesitate. Next to Berek, he was the one person that trusted her after spending so much time together patching up the wounded fighters. She taught him most of what he knew about herbology and battlefield medicine. That trust was shaken when she joined them not as the older madam, but as a youthful vixen that had given her heart away.

  Gilliam knew there was some sort of magic in her change and that, he disliked and feared above all else. He was learning to adapt, and if Berek loved and trusted her then he’d find away. He squeezed her hand, a move that caused her to look at him. “He’ll be fine. Remember how few times we had to stitch him?” He smiled as reasuredly as he could.

  Fleir returned the smile, yes she remembered. Only twice did Berek come into the infirmary tent and that was for ointment treatments. But still, she feared for him. Nymphs, by their very nature, were tuned into all things living. When a creature died its energy was absorbed and used to continue the cycle. Air Nymphs could sense one’s life force better than others. They were often sought out by grieving wives or husbands with a missing child or mate to learn if they should mourn. While she could sense the life of the world around her, she could only find faint trails left by Berek. Either he was being obscured by the powerful energy within him or he was dead. She refused to believe the latter, but the look on the Halfling‘s face was one of bad tiding.

  After making sure no one was watching the Halfling, Fleir released Gilliam’s hand and made a bird call other birds would envy. In a daze of sorts, Janessa didn’t hear the whistle at first but on the third attempt she spotted her companions and trotted over, disappearing into the brush. Had anyone been watching her they would’ve lost sight of her at once.

  Without thinking, Janessa stopped in front of Gilliam. She wiped her eyes before she looked up. “I think… Viola’s dead. But… Berek said he didn’t think so.

  That confirmed what Fleir thought. Perhaps her powers weren’t leaving her just yet. “And Berek?” She glanced at Galin when he spoke. Lost in their own emotions she and Gilliam forgot the Dwarf. He had his own bond of friendship with the fighter, one neither she nor Gilliam could ever share. She could see the same hurt and fear she felt in his eyes. Gilliam rested a hand on Galin’s shoulder, a move the Dwarf didn’t feel.

  Janessa paused for a moment, then told them how they arrived just as the inn was attacked and how Berek saved them by magiking them to the street. There she stopped, ashamed that she let him go and fight her battle. Gilliam seemed to know her thoughts as he drew the unspoken conclusion. “He went after Fech.”

  Galin nodded, “Aye, that he did. He’s got a deep sense of honor, that’s for sure.”

  “He’s arrogant, pig headed, and overconfident.” Gilliam crossed his arms, just like me.

  Galin nodded his agreement, “Aye, that’s true, but not overconfident. He knows he can win.”

  Gilliam looked at the Dwarf as though he’d gone mad but Fleir nodded. “Remember? No stitches. He wouldn’t jump into a fight he couldn‘t win.” She felt a sense of pride that her love would be so brave and courageous. She was sure it was a trait common in humans.

  “We can’t let him… not alone.” Janessa looked up at the three of them, tears streaked down her face. “He’ll need us.”

  The companions stood silent for a moment considering their options. Janessa knew which direction Fech had flown off in, they could follow and with some luck find him. It took less than a second for Galin to make his choice. He stood, shifted his belt so that everything was in easy reach, and lifted his hammer. “Point the way lass.”

  Janessa looked up with a large smile on her face. “That way,” she pointed back across the road, “he flew east, or so the archers said.”

  With a nod and smile of his own, Galin followed her directions. Janessa ran to catch up as few things moved as fast as a Dwarf with a purpose. “Come on you two, can’t leave the lad out there by himself. He’s liable to catch a cold.”

  Gilliam chuckled, “The greatest things are held not by the hand of man, but on the backs of Dwarves.’”

  Fleir ran with him step for step while thinking over what he said. “Where’s that from?”

  “The Song of Amethius, a poem by Tora.” Gilliam’s answer was matter-of-fact.

  “A Dwarf?”

  Gilliam shook his head, “An Elf.” He smiled at her wide eyed expression. “After this is all over I’ll tell you more about it if you’d like.”

  Fleir thought for a moment before nodding with an interested smile, “I look forward to it.” She was rewarded with a return smile before the cleric set his face for what was to come. She shared in his worry; death had little meaning for beings that lived for several centuries. Perhaps it was that the Nymphs, like their distant cousins the Elves, understood death to be the natural order of things. She always wondered why the humans, and other races like them, raged against it so. Now she was beginning to understand.

  Of all of the races on Pyrain, the humans were the only ones driven by their emotions. The intensity for which they lived was contagious, as she often felt the temptation herself. But she’d been around them for nearly her entire existence, the Dwarf for only a fraction of that but yet he displayed their best qualities.

  All Nymphs consider Dwarves inferior, a sub-race because of their desire to remain buried underground for much of their existence. Much like an earthworm or mollusk, they seemed to run from the light of the outside world. But there was more to them than that. Like the humans, they believed in honor and justice. Like the Elves they constructed things of beauty and wonderment but, most significant in her mind, they observed the ways of the world with the patience of the Gods. She found it strange they were the least understood yet one of the most powerful people to walk the world.

  Watching the others follow his lead in Berek’s absence, she felt certain Berek often consulted with his friend. What she was doing was against all Nymph Law, but then how many of those Nymphs that would judge her ever found themselves in her situation? She smiled to herself, not only had she fallen in love with a human, but she followed a Dwarf. She really upturned the apple car
t, as the humans were fond of saying.

  Chapter 27

  Berek pushed aside a branch so he could have a better view. In front of him was a dense grove of trees surrounded by thick brush. Not more than ten feet away he could hear the gargoyle breathing. The short rhythmic sound meant Fech was sleeping, a shame.

  Berek hoped the creature would be awake so it could see its death but he’d been robbed of that by chance. Since the attack on the inn he found it difficult to reign in his temper, fighting against the urge to charge the grove with a battle cry. Instead he felt another option would work best. If Fech survived, so much the better.

  A spell came to Berek’s mind, he didn’t know from where or how, but he knew it was the right one. He muttered the words, pronouncing them each perfectly. Once he spoke the final syllable a fire ball shot from him and struck the grove. The entire grove burst into flames causing a heart piercing shriek to roar out from the heart of the blaze.

  The dark shape of Fech leapt from his hiding place and landed in the clearing between the grove and Berek. With parts of him on fire, the Gargoyle clawed his way to the small stream running next to the clearing and fell in. After a moment, Fech pulled himself out and onto the bank, his red, feral eyes burned brighter than the fire that had engulfed him. “Who dares attack me?” Though it came out more like a gravely sound than anything else, Berek understood and burst into laughter.

  Fech spun towards the sound and recognized Berek. He knew the human wasn’t standing in the clearing before. He must’ve come out of hiding while Fech was in the stream.

  Fech let out a deep growl but the human kept laughing, “What’s wrong Fech? Afraid of a little fire?”

  “You were a fool to come after me, Berek!” Not knowing he’d done so, Fech reverted to speaking his native Draconian due to his anger and hatred.

  To Berek, it all sounded like Common, “Then show me pet, or won’t your master lift his boot high enough?”