Ascendant of Aldrya

by Northwest Grant

  "It's a good plan," said Nigel.

  "I don't have money for horses, either," said Emma.

  "I thought you've been making quite a lot," said Khoraja. "Until your recent retirement."

  "She retired?" asked Bel. "I didn't know that anyone could retire so young and beautiful. I thought a priestess of Inanna had to--"

  "All that money went to the goddess," said Emma.

  "Ah," Khoraja said. "That makes sense. I'll gladly pay for two horses. Seems I'm flush these days." She smiled at Nigel.

  "Payment for services rendered?" Emma grinned.

  Bel looked away uncomfortably.

  Khoraja glared at Emma, although the corner of her mouth turned up slightly. "You could say that, but not those kinds of services."

  Emma chuckled. "You're working on you your frostiness already. I like it. And thank you for being willing to pay for the whores. Horses, I mean."

  "My pleasure," said Khoraja.

  Bel cleared her throat. Nigel was sure the slip was intentional. The innuendo back and forth had his cock stirring again. He had only known Khoraja and Emma a few days, but he thought he loved both of them. Their barbs back and forth no longer bothered him. They were more light-hearted than in the beginning, and the two women seemed to have real affection for each other. Being in combat together created bonds fast. Perhaps sharing a lover did too. That Emma had brought Khoraja back to life probably didn't hurt either.

  "Here comes the food," said Nigel, hoping it would serve as a distraction, for Bel's sake. As Abby set the plates down, the warm smell of bacon filled the air.

  "I'll go train," Bel said, getting up. "I'll be back by tomorrow at noon."

  "Um, okay," Khoraja said.

  Bel walked out of the inn.

  "Mmm, bacon," Nigel said.

  "She's a strange one," Khoraja said.

  "Uh-huh," Emma agreed, with her mouth full.

  "Because she's a loner?" Nigel could see how the group might be suspicious of Bel's need to be alone, but as an introvert he understood the impulse.

  "Yes, that," Emma said.

  Nigel didn't argue the point. Any concerns he had about Bel ended when she'd killed Garrett. Bel was deadly with her arrows, and was probably the most useful of all of them against demons, providing she wasn't feared. But Bel would be ready next time, and she'd probably rather die than flee again.

  "So... the character sheet thing. Can you see all my secrets now?" asked Khoraja.

  "I am curious, too," said Emma.

  "I can't see your secrets," Nigel said. "Just your skills."

  "And?" Khoraja prompted.

  "It's all relative. Your Fireball is an eight. Your Freezing Bolt is a one."

  "So I'm a lot better with fire than with frost. We knew that. How does that compare to Emma's skills, or yours?"

  "I'm not sure different skills are on the same scale." He suspected they were, but he didn't think it was wise to turn it into a competition, particularly since Khoraja's skills would improve more slowly than other people's. "My sword fighting is a six. When you first met me, it was a one."

  "And Emma's healing?"

  He glanced at Emma, who was on the edge of her seat paying rapt attention.

  "It's not a competition, Khoraja," Nigel said.

  "I'm very competitive," Khoraja said.

  "I know. But we're a team."

  "My healing will work better on you now," Emma said to Khoraja, "because we've shared a bed, and shared a man. But not as good as if we were to--"

  "It's a nice day out, isn't it?" Khoraja said. "I think we'll have a nice ride."

  Emma giggled. "That's what I'm offering."

  "So, despite Emma's attempts to heat it up, my mission is to get better at the frost thing." Khoraja made a face. "I don't like being a 'one' at anything."

  Nigel refrained from mentioning to her that all three character sheets he'd seen had been full of zeroes. They finished their food, and an hour later Emma and Khoraja were on their way to Lionguard. Nigel went to talk to the blacksmith.

  The blacksmith was a short, stout man with a beard, and he reminded Nigel of Bromus, but the man was human, not a dwarf. He looked up from his anvil at Nigel, bearing Garrett's armor. "I recognize this armor," he said.

  "Did you make it?" asked Nigel.

  "Oh no, it's not from me, nor any of the smiths in Lionguard. I suspect the fellow brought it with him from Angleford." He tilted his head, looking at Nigel appraisingly. "Bought it from him? Won it in a bet?"

  "Not exactly," said Nigel.

  "Folks don't much care for adventurers who turn on each other. Adventurers don't like it because they can't trust you. Townsfolk don't like it because it's bad for business. My name's Barth, by the way." The smith pounded the hot iron he was working at a few times. It looked like he was making a scythe blade. The noise made it hard to communicate.

  Nigel waited for the smith to take a break. "I'm Nightwolf."

  "I know. Everyone knows who you are."

  "He attacked me. His mistake."

  "Over the whore?"

  Nigel tensed. He'd never get used to people calling Emma that. Even if it had been true. "Over the priestess, yes." Word travelled fast in the little village.

  "Silly thing to be fighting about, if you ask me."

  Nigel decided it wouldn't be politic to point out he hadn't asked.

  "Well, it's no concern of mine. Never liked the guy, anyway. But if he's really a prince like he claimed, there might be other trouble that comes of it, and I'll thank you to take that trouble out of town." He nodded at the armor. "I suppose you'll want it refitted." The smith hit the scythe blade two more times, looked at it critically, and then used tongs to move the hot metal to a cold stone where it could cool before looking at Nigel again. "Show me."

  Nigel tried to hand the armor to him, but the smith shook his head. "No. Show me how it fits."

  Nigel put it on. The shoulders were loose, the chest plate was tight, and thigh plates fit well, he thought.

  "Hmm. Mostly leather work, rather than real smithing. We need to add a hole so you can tighten the buckle on the hauberk, hammer out the shoulders a little, and add new straps there. Twenty-five silver, and I'll have it for you in a week."

  He didn't want to delay a week, and part of the point was to get practice moving in the armor while dealing with the wyrmkin. Twenty-five seemed expensive. Khoraja and Emma didn't know much about blacksmithing, but the both guessed fifteen. "Why a week?"

  "Because I have two scythes to repair, and orders for new mining picks -- the salt mine's reopening. Sit back and enjoy life for a while. Don't be in a rush to go out and die. Get some ale, find a good wench, and relax."

  It was probably good advice. In fact, it was advice Nigel had every intention of following once Deluca was dead.

  "Three--" he was about to say three gold to complete the project by tomorrow, but he could be better at business than that. "Can't wait that long," he said. "I'd have to go to Lionguard and have it done there, if you can't get it done sooner. Can you keep a secret?"

  "Sure."

  "I'm fixing to chase down the man who killed Priestess Alissandra."

  "I reckon it was an orc who killed the priestess." The blacksmith's eyes narrowed. "Like the orc you were hanging with the other day. Or maybe you ended up in a fight with him, too?"

  Ah, that was a mark against him. He'd noticed that some of the townspeople who'd thought he was a hero for a day weren't nearly as deferential lately. That was fine, he didn't much care for deference. "No, Gragoth is alive and well. You reckon wrong about the priestess. A human male killed her. Killing Alissandra was the point of the attack -- the rest was just a diversion." He didn't know that, but it was a reasonable interpretation.

  "Hmm." Barth picked up a metal bar and inspected it. "Tell you what. I'll go talk to Alissandra. If she says a man killed her, I'll do the job for you for fifteen and I'll have it for you tomorrow. If she said it was an orc, it'll cost you thirty and I'll
have it for you in a week like I said."

  Nigel nodded. "It's a deal."

  "Be on your way then. The priestess prays at this hour. I'll bother her after I've bent this bar into the shape I need. If I'm doing it in the rush you want, I'll send word. Fifteen silver now -- the rest in a week unless her reverence backs you up."

  Nigel hated to hand out the money, for fear it would be twice that and not done for a week. Travelling to Lionguard would delay them further, especially since Emma and Khoraja had bought the town's last horse. The priestess would back him up. He gave the man a gold piece and counted the remaining sum in silver. The blacksmith felt the gold and grunted his approval of its weight.

  "I'll be in the inn."

  "Be nice to Abby, she's my niece. If you do her wrong, I'll have your nuts on my anvil." Barth fixed him with a stare.

  "I won't touch her," Nigel said. "I've got my hands full."

  Barth grunted again, the same sound he made when he weighed the gold with his hand. Nigel left.

  Three hours later, he was sitting at the bar chatting with the innkeeper, for lack of anything better to do, when Abby came in and headed toward him. "Uncle says he'll have the armor for you by tomorrow at noon," she said.

  "Good," Nigel said.

  Abby turned on her heels. There was no flirtation. Perhaps Barth had relayed Nigel's intentions, or lack thereof. He'd kill time while waiting for the women to return. He wondered what Bel was practicing, and how. He should have asked her.

  When he finished the ale, he went walking around town. There wasn't much to Belden. Beyond the inn, the temple, and the smiths, it was mostly just a few houses for those farmers whose fields were relatively close to the city. It was market day, and farmers gathered in the clearing between the inn and the temple. Nigel talked to some of them and found one who lived near the wyrmkin. The farmer claimed he'd been trying to get adventurers to do something about them for a while, but unlike their giant flying relatives, the wyrmkin didn't have gold and their parts weren't useful for spells, so there wasn't much incentive. They would raid at night, taking pigs and poultry, and would fight if confronted. Incidents were on the rise. When he heard Nigel was interested in leading a group to deal with them, he immediately offered to put them up at his farm for free, and give them meals as long as they were "killing those nasty buggers."

  After buying pastries, fruit, and cured meat that would keep for a journey or two, Nigel went back to the inn and spent the evening chatting with Myron the innkeeper. He was eager to learn all he could about Aldrya, and he knew enough now to ask questions without sounding too stupid. After a while he went to bed. He missed the girls, but the bright side was that he could get a good night's sleep without interruption.

  At noon the next day, Barth, true to his word, sent word to Nigel via Abby that his armor was ready. Nigel walked outside just as Bel was returning from wherever she had been. She hadn't been back at the inn in the evening, so either she had gone to Lionguard or another village -- there was one to the south she could probably just barely make it to -- or she'd spent the evening outside. From the dirt on her green vest and the grass in her tousled red hair, Nigel guessed it was the latter. He waved. She quickened her step to join him.

  "What've you been up to?" asked Nigel.

  "Things," said Bel. "A woman has secrets. It was an experiment. I'm not sure I'm ready for a big reveal."

  "A woman of mystery."

  "Hmm. What have you been doing?"

  "Waiting, mostly. I found a farmer who was in the village to sell grain and hogs. He lives out near where the wyrmkin are, and we can stay there tonight if Khoraja and Emma get here soon."

  "That sounds good," Bel said. "Or... they have horses. They could catch up."

  They walked into the smithy, and to Nigel's surprise, Barth beamed at him. Maybe talking to Alissandra had made a difference, or possibly learning he was uninterested in Abby had improved the smith's opinion. "There are you are, Nightwolf. I thought of making a hand delivery, but I thought if Garrett had friends you'd best not be fitted with his armor in front of them. I see you brought one of your women with you." Barth gave Bel a toothy smile.

  "I'm not one of his women," Bel said.

  Barth grunted. "Anyway, come here, lad, and we'll try this stuff on you."

  Nigel walked over and let Barth fit him. The armor was heavy; there was no changing the fact that metal armor weighed a ton, and it would require magic rather than a smith's hammer to make it any different. But it fit as if it was designed for him.

  "Move in it," Barth said.

  Nigel went through his stances and kicks as he had when he'd first arrived in the world. Fighting for hours in the heavy armor would tire him out, but he could move in it unimpeded.

  "You have a very unusual fighting style," Barth remarked. "Most folks who wear armor and carry a big sword emphasize power and a direct approach. You fight with your feet and speed as well as your sword. I'm glad I don't have to face you in battle."

  Nigel smiled. "Thank you, Barth."

  "My honor, Nightwolf. I have spoken to no one about your mission, as you asked. Are you setting out today, or tomorrow?"

  Had he deceived the man into thinking he'd be going directly after Deluca? He hadn't intended to.

  "We'll be leaving today," said Bel. "But I'm not sure what the big secret is."

  "Well, I'll keep quiet anyway," Barth said.

  "We're not heading directly for a confrontation," Nigel said, envisioning Barth finding out about the wyrmkin and spilling the secret while complaining about being hoodwinked. "The man we seek is powerful, and we have to prepare first."

  "What kind of power?" asked Barth.

  "He consorts with demons."

  Barth raised his bushy eyebrows. "Well then. You'd best be ready. May the gods be with you."

  On Earth a phrase like that would likely be empty politeness. But here the gods might be real, and their priests and priestesses had power. "Thank you, Master Barth," Nigel said.

  "Just a journeyman," said Barth. "Never was much for kowtowing to a bunch of judges, so I never got my title. But I daresay I'm good enough. Now, you have work to do, and so do I. Get." He turned his back on Nightwolf and Bel to pump the bellows.

  "Lunch time?" Nigel asked Bel.

  "Sounds good, if we eat a light one. Traveling is best on neither an empty stomach nor a full one."

  They went to the inn together, and Abby brought them bread and an aromatic and tasty beef stew. They had eaten most of it when Khoraja and Emma returned.

  "Success?" he asked.

  The two women joined Nigel and Bel at the table. "Mixed," said Emma. "I talked to Sivestara, and she seemed interested, but she didn't have another resurrection amulet for me. She shared some information about fighting demons, though, and she taught me a spell."

  Nigel nodded. "Yes?"

  "Normal weapons aren't as effective against demons -- they work, but not as well as they should. But magical ones are effective. Getting a magic sword for you will make a big difference. Holy magic is extra effective against them, fire and shadow almost not at all. Frost should damage them normally, so that's what she thought Khoraja should work on."

  "Pretty much as we expected."

  Emma nodded. "Demons can tap deep into our feelings. Lust, with the succubus. Fear, with the big nasty blue demons, which are called Garrogs. How effective that is depends on your state of mind."

  He'd been horny a lot lately, which is probably why his body instantly reacted to the succubus. But he'd taken on the role of a protector, so he didn't run when the wave of fear hit. It made sense. "Did you all feel lust, too?"

  "Um, yeah," Emma said. "That demon was hot."

  "I'd rather not say," said Bel.

  "Meanwhile," said Khoraja, also not addressing the question, "I got a scroll that will help me learn a spell called Cone of Cold, that works like my Fire Spray spell but with cold. It extends farther out than Fire Spray, too. I can use it against enemies thirty fee
t away, as long as there's no one in my way. I'll study it on the way to the wyrmkin if someone will guide my horse, and hopefully I'll be able to cast it by the time we get there."

  "What's the spell you learned, Emma?"

  "It's called Holy Ward. It's not very effective against normal creatures, but it provides a few minutes of protection against things like demons. The good news is that it's not useless against any monster, and wyrmkin are monsters of sorts. So I should be able to practice it and get better."

  "That sounds great," Nigel said. "Now we just have to get those spells above level one."

  "Level one?" asked Bel.

  "Beginning ability." Nigel didn't want to explain character sheets to her, and he definitely didn't want to explain why he could see them. The way to keep a secret was not to share it.

  Bel shrugged. "Okay. I'm definitely in favor of anything that makes us better at fighting demons."

  "We got something for you, too, Bel." Emma took what looked like a coil of twine from her pack, and handed it to Bel. It didn't look very impressive to Nigel. "It's an enchanted bow string. It won't make your arrows magical, but you have a spell for that. It will let you keep your bow strung, however, without damaging it, and it won't wear out. Well, for years, anyway. Should help your arrows fly faster, too."

  "Nice," said Bel. "I don't know how to thank you."

  "We wouldn't have been able to buy anything without you," Emma said. "You don't owe us any thanks at all."

  "If I hadn't run..."

  "Or if you hadn't come back," said Emma firmly. "It's done, Bel. You're one of us now."

  "Definitely," Nigel added. He was proud of Emma. He couldn't have put it better. Khoraja was nodding agreement.

  Bel blushed and said nothing. Abby brought more stew, and everyone dived in.

  #

  They got to their destination after sunset, and the farmer they were staying with welcomed them. "I didn't expect to see you so soon," he said. "Fact is, I doubted you'd come at all. Bless you! I'm Vorm. Come on in. Gerta!"