by C S Vass
Malcolm laughed. “If you were, it would certainly baffle me why you would want to kill me. But in any case, I know you’re a Forsaken.”
“Yeah? You accustomed to taking a man on the first words that he speaks?”
“No,” Malcom said seriously. “But I can see it in your eyes. In your face. Each Star-blessed has a different kind of eyes. A different way of walking. I can recognize them all.”
“You seem to be quite the expert,” Godwin said. “They teach you all of that at your headquarters in Tallium?”
“Yes,” Malcom responded bluntly. “But it will do us no good to stay out here and speak of it. You’re heading to Iryllium, are you not? Of course you are. Where else would you be going? Come with me. It’s the eighth straight day of storms, and there’s a rather splendid new inn that’s within a day’s walk of here.”
“I can’t afford it,” Godwin said. “Besides, might be better luck for you not to travel with a Forsaken.”
“Nonsense. I need the company, and so do you. Just for the evening accept my offer. Let’s go.”
Without waiting for him to respond, Malcolm began walking down the road towards Iryllium. He had intended to keep himself isolated, but the truth was he did need company, and even more he needed a bath and a roof. If Malcolm was willing to pay for him, well, that was an offer that only an idiot would refuse.
“From where do you come?” Malcolm asked in a cheery voice as they started down the road together.
“Saebyl,” Godwin replied.
“More coin to be made down south for a Shigata, I take it.”
“Something like that,” Godwin said. “So what news of Tallium? That is, if that’s where you’re coming from.”
“It is,” Malcolm affirmed. “Life remains the same there. The only difference is that we hear the most unpleasant rumors from the south.”
“I see. So is it your custom to walk towards danger?”
“The Cult of Jericho has sent me to find out to what extent the rumors are true.”
Godwin took a swig from his waterskin and said, “Iryllium is a hard place to get honest answers.”
“Perhaps,” Malcolm conceded. “But still, I must try.”
“Far be it from me to try to stop you.”
They continued on in silence for a while. Godwin found the company surprisingly enjoyable as they moved down the beaten road. The rain had lessened to a mere sprinkle, and while mud still sucked at his boots, he found his mind wandering towards thoughts of the night ahead more than the discomfort of the present.
“What do you do in the Cult of Jericho?” Godwin asked after a time.
“I specialize in the study of congruence and similarity with respect to the geometric construction of ancient elvish runes,” Malcom responded at once. “Are you a man of Old Magic?”
“Sorry, I’m afraid I’ve only studied New Magic.”
“How barbaric,” Malcolm said with a mocking grin.
“Well, maybe my days of barbarism are behind me.”
“Oh? What do you mean?”
Godwin hesitated. In an instant his mind flashed back to Yegvellen’s tower. The horrific magical substance that seemed to set his very soul on fire. The terrible, burning pain. In truth, he had no idea what the consequences of that encounter might be. He was scared to try any more potions since then. But of course, now was not the time to discuss such things.
“I’ve drank a lot of strange potions,” Godwin said. “Not all of them good for me. There comes a time, I think, when one pushes their luck enough for one lifetime. I’m not sure I can continue to rely on those concoctions.”
“A wise perspective,” Malcolm said. “Tell me, would you consider shifting your study over to Old Magic?”
Strangely enough, Godwin then realized, he had never even considered the question. Old Magic was something that of course he would have at least been given a thorough introduction to at the University of Magic and Mathematics in Brentos. But that would have been a different life for a different person. Ever since the last Bloodwater War, such thoughts had not strayed across his mind.
“I don’t know,” Godwin said. “I don’t know where I would begin.”
“It’s no easy question,” Malcolm conceded. “Old Magic is not well understood even by the Cult of Jericho. New Magic relies on consistent results, on science and understanding. Old Magic… well, we haven’t even scratched the surface. I study my runes and compare shapes, and on the best of days I think I can find some sort of correlation, but in truth we really don’t know why anything works. We just know that it does.”
“Quite a leap of faith,” Godwin said. “Without understanding why you get the results that you do, well that just sounds like a recipe for a lot of accidents.”
“We’re not known to have many old men strutting our halls as the University does,” Malcolm agreed. “Yet that’s the price we pay. New Magic comes up with some bold innovation every five or ten years these days. Old Magic is lucky if it sees such a thing happen once a century. But we can talk more on that later. Food and fire await!”
So it did. As Malcolm turned down a side path cradled above by leafless tree branches, they came to a grove occupied by a massive four-story inn.
“Who would put such a mammoth here?” Godwin asked, amazed. The inn was a straw-thatched and gable-roofed structure with circular mirror-like windows lining the various rooms. A large wooden deck wrapped around the entire building and was lined with burning braziers built into the faces of snarling iron gargoyles.
“Impressive, isn’t it,” Malcom chuckled.
“This looks more like a lord’s summer home than an inn,” Godwin said.
“Don’t be mocking my taste, Godwin of the Shigata,” a rough, familiar voice called from the doorway.
Looking up, Godwin blinked in wonder. “You!”
“Yes, me. And if you have one more word to say about my new establishment that’s a hair short of the highest praise, I’ll throw you out on your arse faster than a woodpecker pecks wood!”
Godwin strode forward and embraced his old friend. “Banfrey!” the Shigata exclaimed. “Of all the places I could have thought to find you… how have you ended up here?”
“Your wetter than the hunting dogs,” Banfrey said. “But that’s all right. Truth be told, Godwin, I could use a Shigata.”
Godwin scoffed. “Certainly you can afford to pay for one if you own this place. How is it that you’ve come by such good fortune? And don’t tell me you have some rich great-uncle that’s passed. I won’t believe it for a second.”
The fat innkeeper laughed jovially and waved off Godwin’s comment. “Hello Malcolm,” he said turning to the other man. Godwin blinked in amazement that Banfrey knew his companion as well. “I’m glad to see that you decided to finally take me up on the offer I made you in Hart and come by this place. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”
“It’s good to see you, Banfrey,” Malcolm said.
Godwin hadn’t seen Banfrey since he had left for Snowpit when Torin gave him the Kanjo contract. Back then, he owned a run-down inn in Hart that catered to more whores than nobles. The reversal of fortunes made Godwin smile. There were few men who deserved it more than Banfrey.
“So?” the Shigata said. “Are you going to answer my question? Or does this fantastic establishment have to remain a mystery?”
“What can I say?” the innkeeper said. “Tanzen.”
“Tanzen?” Godwin repeated with a furrowed brow. “You aim to tell me that you won this place at cards? You might as well stick to the rich uncle story.”
“I didn’t win it all at once,” Banfrey said. “But, well, you know I never much liked Hart. I always wanted to leave. Over the years I found that I got pretty good at hands of Tanzen. I slowly started saving up for something. I just never knew what. Developed a bit of a reputation among the finer society types. Found myself in some strange situations where I was betting more gold than I ever thought I could dream of having
… and winning. Well, I won a lot. Started putting the money away. Over the last few years this has been a bit of a secret project. I gradually constructed it, piece by piece, hiring the best of dwarven architects, elven mages to sew their spells into the woodwork, even had a few Kirishilliwan come by and offer to help for nothing more than my company.”
“Unbelievable,” Godwin muttered. But he knew Banfrey did not lie. The braziers that lit the deck had caught his attention at once. The fire held the same magic that the Kirishelliwan fires did. “What a project. But what’s all this about bad circumstances and needing a Shigata?”
“Well,” Banfrey placed his hand on the back of his head and grimaced.
“Come now, don’t make me beat it out of you,” Godwin said. “You won’t pull my heartstrings on this one. If you need me to take care of something, you’ll pay me properly, and I’ll do it. What else are the Shigata for, after all?”
“Gold’s no problem,” Banfrey said. “Although if things keep on going like this, it will be. But come inside, I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Wait,” Godwin said, feeling a sudden anxious energy. “Tell me now. At least give me the short version.”
“Feeling eager?” Banfrey asked.
“Actually, yes,” Godwin said. “I’ve eaten well, and I’m soaked to the bone. The idea of going in, cleaning up, and heading right back out into this shit is too much to bear. Maybe I can just go take care of it now.”
Banfrey blinked. “Can this really be the same Godwin that I knew in Hart? The one who pulled his hood down over his eyes every time someone started mentioning a domovoi or household ghost?”
“If you have the gold to create this place and not the gold to handle a domovoi, I’ll eat my cloak.”
“All right then,” Banfrey said. “I suppose it’s not a long tale. You see, the gist of it is that there’s been all sorts of strangeness in the area. Rumors are starting to spread. It’s bad for business.”
“What kind of strangeness?”
“That’s just the thing! I don’t know!” Banfrey said.
Godwin wrinkled his brow. “Got it. Real helpful, that.”
“Look. You’ve got to understand what it is I’m trying to do with the place. Maybe that will help. You see, this isn’t exactly going to be one of those open to every wanderer that comes down the beaten path type of inns. I see the way you’re looking at me. Don’t misunderstand me. It’s not that I’m after gold. I’ve done well enough to live happily, and I’m not going to bar people on account of what they can pay. I just—”
“Banfrey!”
“What?”
“You’re babbling.”
“Quite right,” the innkeeper said, his cheeks reddening slightly. “Forgive me. The point is, I attract a certain kind of clientele. The kind whose company I can tolerate, regardless of their station in life. Now when I travel between here and Iryllium for business, I get rumors from all sorts of people. There is a curse in these woods. The roads are dangerous. Demons. My friends, simply put, are scared to come out here.”
“Well what do you want me to do about it?” Godwin barked. “There are demons everywhere these days. I can’t help you with a string of bad business because the bloody continent is going to hell.”
Banfrey sighed. “I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe it was something more… something—”
“Darwuri.”
“What?”
“Huh?”
Godwin and Banfrey’s eyes both fell upon Malcolm, who had spoken the strange name. The Jericho cultist closed his eyes as if deep in thought.
“Go on then,” Godwin said. “What was that name?”
“His name is Darwuri.” Malcolm’s voice had suddenly become very cold. “He’s what’s causing your problems, Banfrey. And I apologize for the deception, Godwin, but I didn’t simply come here to learn more rumors in Iryllium, although I am doing that as well. But my first and most important mission is to kill my renegade brother.”
Chapter 7
Godwin made his way back into the wilderness against a fresh burst of rain. Though it took every ounce of discipline that the Shigata had to not take Banfrey up on his offer of a hot bath and clean clothes, he truly wanted to be able to rest inside knowing that the area was relatively safe. It did not escape Godwin that his desire to help Malcolm and Banfrey was not just born of a lust for payment, although he would happily accept that as well.
It had been a week since he last saw Robert. The decision sat poorly with him.
It couldn’t be helped. Robert did not deserve a life wandering into the various hells that Godwin would inevitably stumble across. Shigata. Forsaken. It would be a cruel joke to make a traveling companion out of a man like himself. Godwin had convinced himself that he had done the right thing. But still…
The decision sat poorly with him.
“Focus, Godwin,” Malcolm said from his right side as a booming roll of thunder echoed over the forest. “I can’t have you daydreaming if we’re going to do this together.”
Godwin nodded. “You have my attention, Malcolm. There’s no need to worry. But you owe me an explanation. If it’s a secret, so be it. My lips are sealed. But I need to know exactly who this Darwuri is, and why he’s causing trouble out in the wilderness for both the Cult of Jericho and for Banfrey.”
Malcolm’s face turned white with anger as his lips tightened. Godwin could read him well enough to know not to press the man. At last the Jericho cultist sighed. “Darwuri is a brother of mine.”
“By blood, or by allegiance to your order?”
“By allegiance. At least he was a brother of mine by allegiance. Until he abandoned us.”
“I see,” Godwin said. “A renegade Jericho cultist roaming the countryside.”
“An unacceptable situation in the best of times,” Malcolm said. “But these days… I fear that if Darwuri is not stopped, then something terrible might happen to this land.”
“What do you mean?” Godwin asked. “I don’t understand. What kind of trouble is he causing all the way out here, and why would he be doing it?”
A pained look entered Malcolm’s eyes as the wind whipped his hood around his head. “I believe that he is trying to send some kind of message.”
“A message?”
“Surely I don’t need to tell you about the sun warriors rampaging through the wilderness,” Malcolm said.
“Do you mean to imply that Darwuri might try to make some kind of alliance with them?”
“Why not? What kind of future does he have here in the West? As an excommunicated Jericho cultist, King Boldfrost’s court will have automatically issued a bounty on his head. It’s not just the prospect of a powerful and hostile mage that unnerves me. Understand, we of the Cult of Jericho are the sacred protectors of centuries of dangerous magic.”
Godwin laughed. “Trust me. You don’t have to explain.”
“I should think not. Obviously the Shigata have their own records of dark and dangerous magic.”
“Indeed we do.”
“So you really think this rogue might be trying to send a message to the Tarsurians by causing some chaos?”
“Even if that’s not the case,” Malcolm said. “The fact that he’s left our order is enough to decide his fate. But even so, there’s more.”
“Oh?”
“You see, Darwuri was one of our mages who studied some of the oldest, most barbaric forms of blood magic imaginable. Truth be told, knowing Darwuri much of his research was likely illegal even within The Cult of Jericho’s… shall we say lenient protocols.”
“What are we talking about here?” Godwin asked. “Blood magic? Possession sorcery? Demonic summonings?”
“Truthfully I don’t know,” Malcolm said. Then, observing Godwin’s skeptical look, he added, “I really don’t. I promise you, I would not leave out information that could potentially save your life after you’ve agreed to help me.”
“I should hope not, Malcolm. We of the Shigata have
been known to bend the rules ourselves from time to time.”
The journey continued on through fearsome gusts of wind. The storm was howling so intensely that Godwin thought he wouldn’t be able to hear a trumpet if Malcolm was blowing into one right next to him. He allowed the discomfort of his body—wet shoes, an aching back, chattering teeth—to simmer within him, a reserve of angry energy waiting to be called upon should he need it in the heat of battle.
Godwin had wanted to go at once, but Banfrey wouldn’t hear of it. Although the Shigata would not walk inside the inn before completing his task, Banfrey was determined to see them fed with something and brought them both plates of meat and clear, cold drinking water. He was glad that the innkeeper had more sense than he did. It was never too late to make certain that one was properly refreshed.
At last Malcolm stopped. They stood before the yawning mouth of a great, dark cave that swiftly descended into the bowels of the earth. Malcolm moved to continue onward to the cave, but Godwin held him back with a gloved hand. “Wait,” the Shigata commanded.
“You want to stay out here and catch pneumonia before we do this?” Malcolm asked, a flicker of anger in his eyes.
“No,” Godwin said. “But I do have one more question before we go inside. How is it that you’ve led me directly to this place? Did your friend send you some clues?”
“First off,” Malcolm said, the anger in his voice distinctively pronounced now. “The traitor is no friend of mine. Secondly…”
Godwin took a step back as Malcolm’s robes suddenly glowed hot all over with glyphs and runes the likes of which the Shigata had never seen before burned on the fabric. “Secondly,” Malcolm continued, “I don’t have to share the secrets of my order with you, just as I wouldn’t expect you to do the same for me. But trust me, Godwin, I have my methods.”
Godwin smirked. He was beginning to like his odd companion. “Fair enough, Malcolm. An honest question. I meant you no offense.”
Where was this fellow when the bandits were robbing him on the highway? Godwin wondered. It’s like he’s a different person. Is it nerves? Or does the thought of seeing his ex-comrade truly fill him with such anger? Deciding that either way it was none of his business, Godwin followed the Jericho cultist as he stepped into the shadows of the cave.