Mageblood

by Christopher Johns

  “You lot have a tone with this whole ‘demon’ thing, don’t you?” Albarth rolled his eyes but otherwise seemed to relax.

  “The demon wastes are lands ravaged by actual demons,” Alvor explained patiently. “It’s the front lines of many of the adventurer’s guild and army’s quests. They keep them at bay and assist the communities in the area as well.”

  “That makes sense, thank you.” I offered a kind smile. “It may not be what we were sent here to get, but these people have seen some things, and aren’t safe out here. Let’s get them back to the city, shall we?”

  They looked to Alvor then back to us before the youngest bolted into the shack once more. The sound of banging and things shifting reached us and Alvor paced toward the open door when he came back out.

  “What’ve you got there, Dill?” Alvor asked.

  “A new ore that we found in the mountain, shafts three, one, nine.” He held out the dark material. “We busted into a huge vein of the stuff, but we ain’t sure what it was. This ought to be enough to test, right?”

  Alvor examined it in the dim light. “Not enough for me, but for the master? Or one of the other smiths? It could be.”

  The apprentice smith looked to us and stepped forward. “It isn’t part of the quest as agreed upon, and I can’t change it, but it may still be enough to allow us to pass it.”

  “That’s okay.” Mona held a hand up to hush Albarth. “We would love to get you all back to the city.”

  “If you do so, safely, I will honor the previous quest and more,” Alvor swore solemnly. “Even if I have to come out of pocket for it.”

  I’d heard enough, we could be pragmatic later, for now, we had to get these folks and that ore back to the city.

  “Diamond formation around them, and we go,” I ordered, and the others moved. The eldest went into the shack and came out with three well-kept pickaxes in hand. I’d wanted to see if I could get some ore myself, but the sun wasn't getting higher.

  “We’ll do our part folks, don’t mind us.” The elder miner winked, and we moved on out of there with the group.

  We paused at the entrance, where the eldest miner stopped and bent down to pick up something on the ground. He held it out to Alvor and smiled gently. “I still remember the day I gave you this, and here it lays on the ground, worn and weathered.”

  “I used that to get the Hell Cat away!” I blurted quietly. The man regarded me kindly, then turned back to his son.

  “Something so precious and loved, can hold many things, but with time and pressure—strength of resolve—one can make diamond.” He turned the object over and passed it to a stunned Alvor. “I can still feel the pride I felt in my heart the day you left with that chunk of ‘ore’ all those years ago. The metal itself was a ruse, but the diamond inside would grow with care. And it has.”

  He patted his son on the shoulder and made a motion that we should continue forward. So, we did.

  I heard a sniffle from my right and saw Mona wiping away tears indignantly before I turned and focused on our path.

  The fading light seemed to be doing so more swiftly than before, to the point where we had to sprint in order to make it into the gates by dusk when they closed for the night.

  Panting for a moment, the guards seemed happy enough that we had returned and even more impressed when they heard what had happened.

  Though the younger-looking of the two, an elven man, tall and lithely built, seemed more deeply concerned. “A demon and a Hell Cat? Stand by here, please.”

  He went to the small hut by the gate and tugged on a rope inside. No sound came from anywhere, but the older-looking human guard seemed apprehensive.

  “What’s going on?” Sundar asked the guard who had stayed with us.

  “Pulley system in there,” the guard said, then grunted, pointing with his chin. “Magicked to ring to two places, the Sergeant at Arms office and the Constabulary.”

  “So, what’s with the grim countenance, mate?” Albarth put a friendly arm around the rough-looking man’s leather-clad shoulder, only to be shrugged off.

  “Because, both of ‘em ain’t nobody to be summoned lightly.” His eyes flitted from face to face. “Ain’t takin’ this light, but they mean business when summoned.”

  The guard who stepped out of the hut and we waited all of two more minutes before a thunderous crash sounded in the distance, and the surly guard paled. “It was his night?”

  The elven guard calmly nodded once. “Aye.”

  People shouted, and voices raised as this hulking, muscle-bound figure careened into the area with a sword almost as long as my body. He had to be nine-feet tall, and that didn’t include the bull horns that jutted from the sides of his head decorated with gold and silver bands and chains that dangled down an inch or so then looped through the horn itself.

  The bovine features on the face seemed very soft as the Minotaur looked about the area, catching sight of us with deep brown eyes and his nostrils flaring.

  He stomped forward on cloven hooves and readied his sword, his deep voice reverberating in my chest, “So you lot are why I’ve been called here? Raphael! Beezil! Report!”

  Both guards snapped smartly to attention, the elven man saluting with military precision and bearing as he spoke, “Good evening sergeant, west gate reports that the gate is in manageable order and that no—”

  A gout of steam burst from the sergeant’s nostrils, and he clawed at the ground with his left leg. “Skip to why I was called, Beezil!”

  “Aye, sergeant!” He kept his composure as he continued, “The West Mine has been attacked by a demon, and a Hell Cat, the folk here have proof. I thought that this was worthy of your being directly summoned and informed!”

  He regarded us carefully, then picked out Alvor among us. “You.”

  He pointed to the ground in front of him, and Alvor strode forward to stand there with his head tilted farther back so that he could look the minotaur in the face.

  “Tell the tale and leave nothing out,” The sergeant ordered. And that’s what happened. Alvor spoke of our findings and even gave the account that had been given to him quietly on the way there and while at the mine.

  Once he finished, the Minotaur seemed much less ready to kill someone, but looked to be thinking deeply, then he smiled. A great baring of teeth, one of them capped in a silvery type of metal, laughing as he palmed Alvor’s head and shoulder in his right hand.

  “Thought you looked familiar.” Alvor smiled back as the sergeant spoke, patting his weapon lovingly. “You work for one of the best weapon smiths in the city, and you were likely who dropped off Blooddrinker when she was finished. I thank you for your time, and your tale of events.”

  He brushed past the smith’s apprentice, accidentally knocking him over. The Minotaur looked down, thoroughly cowed. “My apologies, I’m so clumsy outside of a fight. Please, allow me to help. There we go.” He turned to the miners and said, “are any of you injured?”

  They shook their heads, and he nodded his. “Excellent, Beezil, see that these men are taken to their families, and I will see that they are compensated for their losses and troubles. Raphael! The gate is mine, go and call the men in the barracks. They are to be ready for duties outside the city in half an hour, full battle rattle, with a battle priest to accompany.”

  Both men snapped smartly to attention, saluted, and their sergeant barked, “Dismissed!”

  Both Beezil and Raphael shot into motion from where they were, collecting the miners and ushering them away as the Minotaur turned his attention our way.

  “My apologies for any disrespect you might feel,” he began, stepping closer to the gate and waving us closer to him. “Reports of a demon anywhere in the region this far beyond the front lines is greatly troubling, Hell Cats less so, but a man-eater must be put down. For that, you have my gratitude. If you would show me the pelt?”

  Albarth pulled it out and handed it to the other man who looked it over knowingly. “Hell Cat, likely in
her prime from the pelt. She have a monster core?”—Albarth handed that over as well—“That confirms it, she was a man killer all right. That monster core will fetch a nice price in the market and is a valued component in some crafting types, too, but I’m sure Alvor said as much to you already. Don’t lose it.”

  “Well, my name’s Sundar Strongtusk.” Our orc healer suddenly introduced herself, pressing through us to get to him holding her hand out. “And these are my friends Kyvir Mageblood, Monami Sunfur, and Albarth Remell. You are?”

  “Enchanted,” he whispered softly before shaking himself out of it. “Uh, yes, I am sergeant Gage Toomgarak, current Sergeant at Arms for the day and warrior in his Majesty’s army.”

  “It’s nice to meet another non-commissioned officer.” Sundar smiled as he grasped her hand, both of their arms shaking and muscles bulging as they did so. “So, what can we do for you, sergeant?”

  He seemed confused, and more than a little disappointed at having to relinquish her hand, but he responded, “Your group has done more than what was asked already, and I do suppose a reward is in order. I did not give you the original quest. However, for proof of killing a known man-eater? That I can reward. Tell you what, you all seem ill-equipped. Making weapons is hard and expensive. I will give two of you weapons from the armory, and cash compensation to the other two.”

  “Do you have any weapon trainers among your guard?” Monami asked thoughtfully. Gage blinked at her but said nothing. “I only ask because some of us don’t know how to use some of our weapons to great effect. We have thoughts of joining in the crusade against the demons, and we thought any training we could get would be beneficial in the long run.”

  “A group of wanderers who wish to learn weapons?” His brown eyes widened in disbelief as he chuckled. “Next, you’ll be telling me that you want to learn how to craft!”

  “That would be nice if it would help us.” I frowned in thought. What kind of crafting was available to us?

  Now his jaw dropped. “Wanderers who want to learn to fight and make things without magic?” He scratched at the coarse hair on his head in amazement. “Now I’ve seen everything. Well, I’m a greatsword, sword, and shield master, so anyone I teach will receive a training bonus from my being their teacher.”

  He frowned. “I do know of a couple of others that are masters as well in various forms of combat. If you’ll take the weapons off the table, I can introduce you and see if they would be interested in taking you on.”

  “Deal.” Sundar reached out and took his hand in hers and grinned. “I’d appreciate seeing how you handle your weapon.”

  I could swear Gage blushed as the rest of us rolled our eyes and groaned.

  “Whenever you are ready, come to my home, I will mark it on your map.” He touched Sundar’s shoulder, and she gasped slightly. “Now, you can find me, and I will be able to teach you the sword.”

  “I will do just that.” She grinned as he took his post in front of the gate and turned to stand with his sword planted lightly in the ground. “Stay safe.”

  “I am the one others need worry about staying safe from.” He raised his chin proudly, and the chains rustled against his horns. “But the sentiment is not lost on me.”

  We left him with a grin and went back toward the Fire Quarter and found the smithy cooled and the smiths gone. Alvor stood there, waiting for us with a look of concern on his face.

  “What,” I called out, “you think he was going to kill us or something?”

  Alvor rushed over and clapped as he reached us. “No, I had wondered if you would show up and worried I might wait here all night missing the festivities.”

  “Festivities?” Monami looked uncertain.

  “You brought me and my family back safe, killed a Hell Cat, and we discovered the mine had a new type of ore.” He grinned boyishly at us. “That means drinking with the smiths with all of you as the guests of honor!”

  Chapter Nine

  Alvor coaxed us to a dingy-looking building that seemed like it was ready to fall down from where we stood.

  “That’s the place?” Albarth quested dryly, disbelief and disdain plain in his face.

  “Yup!” Alvor placed his hands on his hips and looked about before saying, “but believe me when I say, this is just a front. Come on.”

  We stepped up to the door, and he turned to face us. “This place is a haven to those who create, away from prying eyes and gripping hands. You are the only non-crafters to be allowed among us, please abstain from any business while here unless approached first. Okay?”

  We all nodded, and he tapped each of us, a notification populating in front of my vision.

  Request to join the Crafting Guild of Iradellum (temporarily) – Do you accept?

  Yes? / No?

  I accepted, then looked up at Alvor. “You take security very seriously.”

  He nodded, then opened the door before us, and in we went to a brightly lit interior room. A coat room, with a concierge who seemed befuddled that we had nothing for him to take, led into a large room. Two stories with the inner-most portion of the room open, the top floor wooden planks with buttresses that helped relieve the weight from columns that pressed up from beneath. There were stairs to the top floor on each side of the entryway with a large bar on the far side of the room.

  The smiths stood at the bar facing toward us, mugs in hand, the great master smith Ori grinning a toothy grin. “To our heroes and new friends!”

  They slammed their mugs on the counter of the bar, a voice from above called, “You’ll not buy a drink tonight!”

  Before I could look up, a pair of arms wrapped around me and swung me toward the bar with a chuckle. I looked back to see Codgy grinning at me with a foot-tall cask fashioned into a large mug in his meaty hands.

  “I dare say the red blood of a Hell Cat could be used as a dye, eh?” He joked and shoved his mug into my hands. “Have a draft young hero, and tonight we shall discuss no more business than what has uplifted the community this day.”

  “We lost a miner and brother, but several other lives were spared thanks to your quick thought and action.” Ori raised his mug, Codgy took pity on me and passed me a more manageable drink to raise with a knowing snort. “To our heroes and new friends. May their blades never break!”

  “Their clothes never tear!” Codgy added with a boisterous call.

  And a young woman raised her own glass. “And their colors never fade.”

  She was bewitching but, the glass tilted up signaling the toast had been completed, and I needed to drink.

  You have imbibed a strong alcoholic beverage. Your senses are slightly dulled, your intelligence will drop with further intoxication.

  That was nice! The alcohol was bitter, devilishly so, but the aftertaste was nutty and sweet.

  “It’s a good one, I’ll let you know that now.” Codgy tipped his mug to his gullet and took great pulls on the liquid inside, following my gaze. He sighed as he tilted his drink back to resting in his fist. “That’ll be the dye maker, Ophira, the witch. She’s the one I reckoned you would see about my deal. Approach with caution, and do not speak business unless she starts it.”

  I nodded once before walking over to her. The first thing I noticed were the colors, so eclectic and clashing that it almost called to me. Her hair was a rainbow of dark hues all the way up to the brightest white with every kind of color she could fit in her long ponytail. Even her eyebrows were different colors, one green and the other hot pink against her alabaster skin.

  Under those were striking blue eyes that seemed to pierce my soul as she watched my gait toward her falter.

  “Hello, hero.” she smiled and lifted her cup to her lips. Her teeth were perfectly white with long canines glimmering in the light of the bar. She clapped a single hand on the bar, then pointed to my cup with raised brows.

  A rough, practiced hand reached out and steadied my mug, imparting more booze, then flitting away. But her, she was all I could think about. Her and
the colors.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whispered against my better judgment, her eyes widened slightly.

  “Thank you, but I do not believe you have had quite so much to drink as would be required to state something so brazen to an unknown lady.” The corner of her purple-stained lips quirked. “Unless you make a habit of approaching women so recklessly?”

  I blushed furiously. “Not at all! I was talking about all of the colors, they’re magnificent.”

  She pouted a little, her lips pulling down in an artful frown. “So you don’t think I’m beautiful?”

  I opened my mouth, shut it, opened it again, and failed to think of anything to say.

  “I’m teasing you, you poor thing.” Her chuckle made me smile. “I can see that you lack a certain, something, and it is rare that someone other than children think my colorful appearance attractive. I am Ophira, and you are?”

  “I am Kyvir.” I motioned to my own multi-colored hair. “Yes. Normally, I would be as delightfully colorful as you are, but I haven’t been able to find the right… environment to make that come about. I know we aren’t to discuss business here, and I won’t, but may I know where to find you in the future?”

  “I like that you respect our rules, but flirt with the line all the same.” A mischievous sparkle crept into her gaze. She lifted her arm and touched my shoulder the same as Gage had sending a thrill down my spine that made me gasp. It wasn’t pleasure or pain—just sudden knowledge.

  I knew where to find her business, and if I didn’t think it rude to present company, I would confirm it on my map.

  “And a wanderer who doesn’t just open his status screens once he receives something from a normal person?” Interest slid over her features as she tilted her head to the right. “Interesting indeed. Come find me tomorrow; we can discuss business then. Until then, drink your fill and be merry, hero. You did this city a fine service.”

  She upended her glass, downing the amber contents with a gulp and sauntered past me, gracing my cheek with a soft brush of lips that made me feel on fire.

  I turned to see the others staring at me, Mona with an odd look on her face, Al sighing theatrically and Sundar grinning broadly.