by Sam Ferguson
“Can I help you gentlemen?” a voice called out over the din.
The bearded man turned to see a stout woman with long, golden hair behind the bar. She smiled warmly and pulled up three mugs in anticipation of an order. The bearded man glanced to his compatriots and offered a wry smile before heading off toward the bar.
“Ale,” he said dryly as he leaned to one side and swung his leg up over the barstool he chose. The other two sat flanking him, swiveling their heads around and searching the tavern silently.
“Not from the mountains eh?”
The bearded man looked at the barmaid and put on as gentle of a smile as he could muster. Based upon her underwhelming response and her narrowing eyes, the smile had apparently fallen far short of its mark. The bearded man reached out and swept the mug away from the barmaid the instant it was full, forcing her to pull back quickly to avoid spilling. Her brow scrunched up and she looked to the other two, then back to the bearded man.
“I don’t want any trouble,” the woman said. “We are simple folk here, and we run a simple life.”
The bearded man sneered and put the mug up to his mouth. He pulled a half mouthful of the amber liquid in over his tongue and swished it around. His eyes remained locked with hers until he set the mug down on the bar.
“We’re searching for someone,” the bearded man said in a gruff voice. “Perhaps you saw them come through here.”
The barmaid wiped a spot of liquid that had sloshed out of the mug and broke eye contact with the bearded man. “We get travelers from time to time, though not as many in the winter of course,” she replied.
The bearded man smiled wide and reached out to grab the woman’s hand. She jumped slightly at the touch, but he held her fast. “You would recognize these two. A nobleman and a child. They would have come through here just a couple of days ago at most.”
The barmaid glanced nervously to her hand and back up to the bearded man. Her brown eyes were wide with terror and her arm was trembling. “Not sure I recall anyone like that,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Why is it always the same?” the bearded man asked. “What do you owe them? Why would you cover for a criminal?” The woman stopped shaking and tried more forcefully to pull her arm back. The bearded man would not let her go. “The nobleman stole the child,” he said after a while.
The woman seemed to relax, just for an instant. That was all the bearded man needed to see. It was a minute tell, but to him it was the same as if the woman was shouting that she had in fact seen them. No woman could resist the innate motherly nature that made up her core, he knew. That was a woman’s weakness. Tell a good woman that a child was in danger, and you may as well have put a truth spell on them. They always cave after that.
“You saw them,” the bearded man said. “Tell me where they went, and there won’t be any trouble. It is imperative that we find the criminal and safely return the child.”
Just then, a tall man with sandy brown hair walked into the bar area from a swinging door that apparently led into the kitchen area. He wiped his large hands on the front of his tan apron absently and then stopped when he spotted the bearded man holding the barmaid’s hand.
“Jinny, is this man bothering you?” he asked. He stepped in, not waiting for the answer, and went to grab the bearded man’s hand.
The bearded man pointed his left index finger at the tall man and an invisible force knocked him backward into the wall. He struck hard, his head cracking against the corner of a shelf, dropping the man, as well as a few bottles of alcohol, to the floor in a cacophony that brought silence to the rest of the tavern.
The two men flanking the bearded men rose to fend off a number of patrons who were now rising to their feet and staring at them.
The bearded man arched a brow at the barmaid. “Jinny, is it?” he asked. The woman nodded her head. “Ask the others to sit down.”
The woman’s nervous eyes flicked out toward the crowd, and then back to the man holding her hand on the bar. Then she turned and looked down at the tall man upon the floor. With strength she had not hitherto had, she yanked her arm free and went to the man, cradling his head in her lap and fussing over a small cut in the back of his head.
“Alright,” the bearded man said. “We’ll do it the hard way.” He pushed back from his stool and turned to face the others. “My name is Seidrif. I am an agent of the king. He has sent me to find a nobleman who kidnapped a child. Your cooperation would be most appreciated, but it is not necessary that you willingly oblige. Though, I must warn you, if you attempt to resist, I will make you pay dearly for it.”
The bearded man pointed to the tavern’s door. A loud crackle ripped through the silence and a strange, yellow layer of light covered the door. A few of the patrons jumped at the sight of the spell. Seidrif could tell by their reactions that there were no wizards among them. These were simple mountain folk.
“These are my brothers, Bolgrif and Hagrif,” Seidrif said as he indicated the two flanking him. As if on cue, the two brothers waved their arms. A wind rushed through the tavern, extinguishing candles and lanterns and even cowering the fire in the hearth. A few of the patrons shivered and huddled together in the darkened space. A second later a flash of silvery light streaked across the ceiling and then froze in place as frost crystals creaked and cracked, extending down each limb of the still glowing lightning that was now suspended eerily above the tavern patrons.
“As you can see, we are wizards. To cross us would not be wise,” Seidrif said. “Now, I want to ask once more, has anyone here seen a nobleman passing through with a child?”
The crowd stared at Seidrif, all except for the few that glanced to each other nervously. No one said anything.
Seidrif sighed and turned his attention back to the barmaid while his brothers faced the crowd. He placed his left palm down on the bar and leapt over to the other side more gracefully than a man of his height should have been able to, his green cloak flowing behind him.
“Don’t hurt my husband,” the barmaid said as she clutched the unconscious man’s head closer to her chest. “He was only protecting me.”
Seidrif smiled, but this was not his fake smile where he pretended to be nice. No, this was his self-pleasured smile that came in anticipation of what was to come. He might put on a show about not liking the hard interrogations, but truth was there were few things he liked more. “Jinny, dear,” he said as he folded his arms across his chest. “This is your last chance to tell me what I want to know.”
“I haven’t seen anyone like who you described,” Jinny said firmly. Her voice was too decisive. Her previous fear and trepidation was replaced by courage born of self-righteousness. She believed she was protecting the child.
Seidrif waved his hand and a great, invisible force slammed into Jinny, causing her to tumble over her husband and out from behind the bar.
Behind him, Seidrif heard a few people try to step in, but he didn’t look to see what was happening. His brothers could handle this lot. A moment later, there were pained snarls as lightning flashed through the tavern. Heavy thumps sounded in the room amidst gasps of horror.
“No one moves, or they will end up like those two,” Hagrif barked.
Seidrif smiled wide and knelt next to Jinny’s husband while he kept his eyes trained on the woman, who was only just now recovering and starting to push herself up from the floor.
“Please, leave him be!” Jinny pleaded.
Seidrif touched his right index finger to the unconscious man’s body and it rose up, rubbing along the wall until the top of the man’s head touched the ceiling high above the floor. The man’s feet dangled, waving slightly back and forth as Jinny put a hand to her mouth and made a sound that was something between a squeak and a scream.
“Where did they go?” Seidrif asked.
“STOP!” a voice shouted out from behind. “I will tell you where they went, just leave Mr. Perkins and his wife alone.”
Seidrif turned around to see a ma
n pushing his way through the crowd. The man appeared to be in his late twenties, with black hair and icy blue eyes. The bearded wizard left Mr. Perkins suspended in the air and nodded to the young man.
“Where did they go?” Seidrif asked.
“They were going out to the north west, over Geberron pass,” the man said.
“No they weren’t,” another man shouted. “They were headed north, into the foothills.”
Seidrif narrowed his eyes on the newcomer. He was definitely a mountain man. His appearance was rugged and stern, and his clothes spoke of experience trapping and hunting. The bearded wizard wasn’t sure which of them was telling the truth.
“What’s your name?” Seidrif asked the younger man.
“I am Brent, Brent Smygle,” the man answered.
“You say they are heading over Geberron Pass?”
Brent nodded. “As sure as the sun that is what I heard them say.”
“You are a fool, Smygle,” the rugged man said gruffly. “Why lie to these men? You see the power they can wield. Besides, nobody will believe that a nobleman, or anyone with half a brain for that matter, would dare go over Geberron Pass in the winter. Most can’t even cross it in the summer. It’s too dangerous.” The rough mountain man looked to Seidrif and held his hands up. “Please, don’t punish us on this idiot’s account. The two you seek went north. Said they were going to hide in the foothills.”
“You’re sure?” Seidrif asked.
The mountain man nodded. “Unlike this beardless twit, I was actually speaking with them. They wanted to hire me as a guide.”
“Describe them,” Seidrif told the mountain man.
The man nodded. “The nobleman was about five foot seven. Maybe mid-forties. A bit hard to tell exactly how old he was. His eyes were a gray-blue. His skin was light, like he never spent much time outside. The boy with him was maybe thirteen or fourteen. He was somewhat on the thin side, but normal height for his age I reckon. Sand-colored hair with a dusting of freckles across the cheeks and nose.”
Seidrif nodded. “Why did you turn them down?” he pressed.
“I hire out as a guide sometimes to city folk, but never in winter. I trap in the winter, and I am not about responsibility for anyone else up in these mountains. The forest is not very forgiving.”
“He’s lying, they went northwest toward Geberron Pass!” Brent cut in.
Seidrif took in a breath. He stepped out around the bar and moved toward the two men with deliberate, slow steps. The mountain man showed confidence and stood firm. The other shrank away, with hands trembling at his sides. Seidrif knew how to ensure the truth. It was a bit cruel, but he had never found a coward he couldn’t crack even if they were the best of liars. The mountain man on the other hand, was too confident. Likely hardened by the wilderness, he would be much harder to break. Seidrif chose the easy route. It would produce results quicker.
“I believe you,” Seidrif told the mountain man. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome, now can we be let go please?” the man asked.
Seidrif raised his hand and focused his power. A great whoosh of air erupted out and snatched the mountain man. He flew up, flipping end over end until he slammed into the far wall with enough force that the entire building shook and the nearby window cracked. The body slowly slid down the wooden wall, leaving a streak of crimson blood until the corpse ended in a jumbled pile on the floor.
“You said you believed him!” Brent squeaked.
Seidrif nodded, but did not directly answer Brent’s question. To do so would be to allow the small man some semblance of control over the interrogation. The bearded wizard pointed a finger to Brent and the man floated up into the air.
“Please, I’m telling the truth!” Brent squealed. A few of the patrons looked as though they wanted to jump into the mix, but Hagrif and Bolgrif raised their hands and convinced them it would be a bad idea.
“Where did they go?” Seidrif asked Brent.
“They went to Geberron Pass, I swear it! They tried to hire guides for Geberron Pass, but no one would take them. I swear that’s where they went.”
Seidrif caught a glimmer of light out of the corner of his eye. He held up his other hand, creating a wall of air on his right side just as a long dagger came at him. The blade hung in the air, motionless as it became stuck in the spell. Seidrif turned to see another man, looking quite like the first mountain man. Seidrif thrust his chin up and out toward the man. This signal caused the spell holding the dagger to return it to the mountain man with exponentially more force. The dagger tore through the man and exploded out his back. He staggered for a moment, muttering something about his brother, before stumbling into a table and crashing to the floor.
The crowd cried out and everyone fell to their knees.
“Where did they go?” Seidrif asked again.
Brent clutched at the invisible hands that had begun to wrap themselves around his throat.
“Northwest! Northwest!” Brent kicked his legs, struggling against the magic holding and strangling him. “I can prove it, I can help you!” Brent offered.
Seidrif arched a brow. He folded his arms across his chest once more and the spell vanished. Brent fell to the floor, gasping and sputtering. “What help can you offer me?”
Brent nodded and held up a hand as if asking for a moment to catch his breath. His chest and stomach heaved a couple of times and then he coughed and leaned back to sit upon his knees. He looked up to Seidrif and nodded once more.
“I studied the history of magic in Rumtyn College, perhaps you heard of it?” Brent said as he coughed once more. “I know a way for you to get ahead of the nobleman. There are ruins in the mountains. They have special platforms that were once used as portals. Please, I can show you.”
Seidrif looked to his brothers, then back to Brent. This was not the answer he had expected at all. He thought on it for a moment and then nodded. “Very well, show me.”
Brent shook his head. “I can’t use magic, but I have books. They are at my house. I can show them to you. The portals are high in the mountains. They dot the northwest area, and you can use them to get ahead of the nobleman.”
Seidrif smiled. “Bolgrif, Hagrif, stay here with the others. If I am not back within the hour, kill everyone here.”
A gasp ripped through the crowd.
“My house is just down the street,” Brent said. “I can have you back in minutes, I swear.”
Seidrif walked toward Brent and bent low to him. “I will warn you, I am not one to be trifled with. If you are trying to trick me, I will kill you.”
Brent nodded, but his gaping mouth failed to utter any sounds at all.
Seidrif lifted Brent up to his feet and then created a special spell. Chords of air wrapped around Brent’s wrists, pulling them close together in front of his waist. A third, longer chord slithered around Brent’s ankles, but it didn’t pull them together.
“If you try to run, my magic will tie your feet together. Understand?” Seidrif asked.
Brent nodded nervously. “Will you let me live afterward?” Brent asked.
“Show me what you have, and then I will decide,” Seidrif said.
The bearded wizard dispelled the glowing barrier on the door and then followed Brent out of the tavern and turned to the left. A few people were out on the streets, entirely unaware of the goings on inside the tavern. Seidrif engaged in idle conversation to maintain appearances and not raise any suspicions.
“Tell me, the town is called Cherry Brook, but there are no cherry trees here. Why is that?”
Brent laughed nervously, bowing his head and glancing at the wizard over his shoulder. “Umm, they, er… The people who settled here first found the almond trees while they were in bloom. They thought they were cherry trees. So, they named the town Cherry Brook. A bit of a misnomer, but it has stuck ever since.”
Seidrif placed his hand across Brent’s shoulders. Brent tensed anxiously, which made Seidrif smile. “T
ell me, when was the town founded?”
The two continued the history lesson until they entered Brent’s house, which was little more than a two-room cabin with a small plot of land for an orchard out front. Brent stood still, eyeing Seidrif as the wizard put up wards and barriers inside the building. Only when Seidrif was sure there were no magical traps, or other surprises in the room, did he loose Brent’s hands and feet.
“Very well, where are these books?”
“Here!” Brent said quickly as he pointed to a nearby bookcase that stretched from floor to ceiling in the sitting area.
Seidrif watched as the young man bounded over to the books and began pointing at the spines while he muttered words out loud. It was an impressive library, for a villager high in the foothills, but it was nothing like the books back at Seidrif’s own home. Still, he wanted to know how much Brent knew.
“Aha!” Brent called out as he pulled a red and gold book. “The Complete Chronicles of the Kossin,” he said aloud as he displayed the title. “This was required reading for my second year. I wanted to focus my studies on the history of magic in my area. I had thought to teach here…” Brent’s words died in his mouth as his sense caught up with him. His eyes grew dull and he hung his head, not willing to make eye contact with Seidrif. “Sorry,” he said reverently as he offered the book to the wizard.
Seidrif took the book in hand. “Tell me about these portals,” he said.
Brent nodded. “The Kossin had many fortresses and strongholds in the mountains long ago. In the book, you will see that they used to build special rooms in each fortress that allowed them to travel quickly from one to another. The book says that all of them were destroyed in the wars with the Punjak, but that isn’t accurate.”
“What do you mean?” Seidrif asked.
“I found two of them last summer. I went up into the mountains and found one.” He gestured to the book and took it back, flipping through the pages. He stopped when he came to a map. There were squares and triangles drawn upon the map in pen. “I thought if I could find them, I might be able to harness the magic, or sell it, or something,” Brent said. “The book only mentions a couple of ruins, and neither of them have any portal chambers inside. So, I have begun looking for the ruins to see if I could find any that are still functioning.”