Clearly Bernhart was used to such occurrences. He picked up the staff as Torr gripped the far more mundane wooden shaft and set to work as Bernhart continued. “Now then. The staff is attuned to you. Others may successfully scry its nature and try to use it, but, it will burn them. It will not harm you, so you can wield it without fear of pain, although, as you have ably demonstrated, it takes some time for the brain to adjust. It cannot easily be doused by natural means either. Throw it in a river and it will still smoulder or burn. But another wizard could counter it”. Bernhart pointed to the pools of water Torr was trying to mop up.
“May I suggest that you continue to practice with it - outside”.
“Does your staff have a name sir?”
“My what”.
Your staff, you know, the one you took into battle with you. Only, when I was drawing to the front of the line, I saw gaestnips flying through the air looking, well, for all the world, as if they had been struck by lightning”.
“Ah yes...Boom Stick you mean”.
“Sorry sir?”
“Yes, Boom Stick, for that is its name”.
“Boom Stick?!”
Bernhart sighed again. “I took it from a Troll shaman in the Balaks Crag Hills. He clearly had in turn taken it from its rightful owner many years before. I am afraid I did not have time to question the shaman at length about the origin of the staffs name as, you see, I had just pushed him off a cliff edge! What the staff’s original name was and the identity of its creator still elude me. Still, as you saw, very handy in certain situations”.
“And will you be able to teach me to throw fire spells like the one you cast on the battlefield as well?”
“Under normal circumstances, in the time we will have, I would suggest not. However, with your Elheren gem, I do wonder what we will be able to accomplish with you.”
Torr had finished mopping and was now standing, leaning against the mop handle, preparing to try and fire as many questions as he could at the master wizard whilst he had Bernhart’s undivided attention. In anticipation of the young man’s plan, Bernhart held up his customary finger, to pause any conversation, and advised Torr that they would impart as much knowledge as they could over the next ten day. Thereafter, Bernhart was expecting new arrivals. He did not elaborate who, or why the new guests would affect Torr in anyway. Bernhart opened the door to his laboratory, suggesting that, as it was still relatively early in the morning, they would find somewhere for Torr to get used to Victory’s Pain, where he could not set anything else on fire and where someone would not need to keep mopping up after him.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
H e had been guided to a small paddock area, much like one of the training grounds in the baileys of Valheimers garrison. It was outside of Oaks Keep, hidden behind the tree lined path that led to the settlement. Torr saw there were patches of grass that already looked scorched. In some areas, the earth looked like giant moles had erupted from the ground and two of the wooden posts defining the outer edge of the paddock had been nailed back together.
He left his own scorch marks on the ground when he instinctively dropped the staff again when he gave the mental command for it to light. It lay on the grass, burning away, so he carefully put out his hands, expecting to feel the heat as one would when trying to get as close to a lit hearth as possible. The heat never came. Laughing, he picked it up and started to wave the staff around, sparks occasionally flying off the edge as he did. He thought he was going to enjoy his time here, as he came to terms, not only with his inherent ability, but whatever the reason was that, seemingly by chance, he had been the one to kill the bandit leader who, in turn, had somehow come into possession of an Elheren artefact. He began to understand Bernhart's curiosity on this point.
The story had been put out that Torr was a visiting merchant’s son, which wasn’t really stretching the truth anyway, who had actually received some training already (in an effort to try and pre-empt any questions about his abilities appearing to be quite well honed). Certainly this helped explain his practical abilities of Pyromancy, but not his most basic and incessant questions on every other area and discipline of magical lore and training. After just the first day of many a sideways look from all the other apprentices at his complete ignorance, it was decided that his education would have to take place in private. So it was that every afternoon for a ten day, the respective heads of each discipline tried to instil the basics of Necromancy, Illusions, Aquamancy, Charms and Possessions, Caelimancy, magical crafting and Petramancy.
In addition to the paddock that Torr had been directed to initially, he was accompanied to another such area, on the other side of the entrance track, equally hidden. The second training ground was replete with a large pond and a rocky outcrop that seemed very out of place against the back drop of manicured fields, from which the settlement drew its sustenance.
In addition to his Pyromantic displays, he found a particular affinity for the opposing skill of Aquamancy, which he was told was not uncommon. The pond, therefore, was not for keeping fish in. Any aquatic life forms hoping for a new home were very short lived as students practiced snap freezing the water, or causing strong currents or waves. Necromancy was only taught in theory, as it was the branch of magic responsible for binding demons to the bodies of dead men or creatures. It was supposedly the oldest and most dangerous form of magic which the Elheren used to bring the first demons into the world millennia ago.
He also learnt that, what he thought were the blacksmith and carpenter here were wizards in their own right and that the commission of magical implements, by wealthy lords, merchants and adventurers, was a serious money spinner that helped the enclave to fund and house it’s apprentices. One overriding lesson he was taught for each discipline was focus. Focus on the object to be transformed or the conjuration of the required material.
By the end of the ten-day, he was able to freeze the top of the pond, conjure the image of a wolf (albeit one that then walked straight through the nearest tree to end the pretence of the illusion) and, much to his delight, cast a glowing orb in his hand that combusted into a fist sized ball of flame which he could hurl, just as if throwing a stone.
He had greater trouble trying to thicken or manipulate the air around him. It was hard to focus on something you could not really see, nor did he have much joy trying to ease crystals to the surface of the stones in the training arena. He also could not really tell if he had been able to charm the robin perched in the tree-line to land on his hand, or if, perhaps, the bird was so used to seeing apprentice wizards holding their hands out, that it thought it was just some novel form of fleshy perch. He was told that a strong connection was required with, or to, the intended target of the charm. This was why most victims of charm or possession were known to their controlling wizards in some way. The more intelligent the creature, the harder it was to charm them. Torr made a mental note to practice on Elswyth when he got back, to see if he could get her to perch on his arm!
Doubtless the gem had a large part to play in his success. He experimented with keeping it on him or just leaving it in his quarters, but his abilities did not appear to square with his immediate proximity to the stone. The Simirinthine ward appeared to do its work well though. In fact, he was pleased that his lessons had been scheduled for the afternoon as he had difficulty raising himself from his bed for the first few mornings as he adjusted to his new mineral medicinal support. It had clearly had the desired effect, albeit not entirely. He still saw the gem in his dreams, as it replaced the sun in the strange lands and vistas that his sleep took him to.
He was therefore grateful for the spare mornings to clear his head. He would take Scout out a good hours ride from Oaks Keep, having found a path that led beyond the walls, away from the main turnpike, and out to the coast, towards an astronomy tower that the wizards had laid claim to. It reminded Torr of the lighthouse, where his adventures had begun earlier in the year. This was not surprising as it was part of the same coastline, just on t
he south side of Drim Forest. The circular limestone tower before him now even had the same, dome shaped, roof, albeit to allow for the protrusion of a telescope, rather than a beacon to warn shipping.
It was good deal windier now though. It occurred to him that, somewhere out there, was his brother, possibly just about to start his return voyage now. He found a relatively secluded slope where he could practice with his new bow, which he had obviously bought with him but, also, Victory’s Pain as well. In fact, Torr sometimes had difficulty choosing which to practice with, like a child gifted with too many toys at once.
For the first time, Torr did not feel overwhelmed by events either. Up until now, other people, creatures, events or objects had control of his path. Now, the bandits were gone, he could sleep, had accepted and come to terms with his new abilities and had even started to enjoy them. Now, he was in charge. Not that he craved any more action or fighting but, if it came his way, the world had better watch out.
To compound the fight for his attention though, Torr also practiced his Pyromancy skills, towards the end of the ten day, seeing how far he could cast his small fireballs into the sea or if he could draw his bow with sufficient power to get an arrow to go further. A strange twist on the child’s game of seeing how far a pebble could be thrown into a shoreline wave. So Torr threw his projectiles into The Great Sea itself, as if trying to draw the attention of the old sea god Stormsen, after which this season was named.
He had found that, after continued casting and concentration, he started to feel strained, as if he had been exercising heavily, something his teachers readily confirmed to be a side effect and that fitness of body was as important as discipline of mind (although they added the exhaustion would lessen with practice anyway as the body acclimatised).
He had also had plenty of opportunity to visit Raeknor. He had accepted the wisdom Silus had to offer that not all healing came from medicinal potions. For the sake of his friend then, he listened with what he hoped appeared to be eagerness, as his friend recounted what he had learnt. Torr even started to realise that it could not hurt to have a friend so full of lore and knowledge perhaps. At their last meeting as well, Raeknor even asked about what had been happening in Paega, giving Torr the opportunity to mention Elswyth, albeit only briefly, before Raeknor’s interest waned. Nevertheless, Torr left his last meeting in a more positive frame of mind about Raeknor’s wellbeing.
True to his word, after a ten-day of, what had started to become a very care free time, Bernhart requested Torr’s presence in the hall where the officers had met to discuss their plans the night before the battle. He half thought Bernhart may simply want to review his training but, when Torr entered the hall, he saw two other figures sat, with their back to him.
“Ahh, Torr, come in, come in, please, take a seat”. Bernhart waved, generally at the table and the numerous chairs, but also at the selection of late morning appetisers set out as well. As he approached, the two seated figures turned anyway, revealing a woman, perhaps just a few years older than Torr. He was shocked to see that Carodin was the other person sat at the table. By the look on his face, Carodin seemed just as pleasantly surprised to see Torr as he was to see Carodin.
Torr greeted his friend with a handshake that turned into an appropriately firm hug, before Torr turned to great the woman.
She was clearly Suthrasian by her tanned olive complexion and dress This was, essentially, a soft leather cuirass shaped top that was secured to her belt by buckles and a hardened leather splinted skirt, which seemed quite short, together with shin guards and short boots. He noted two short swords in matching leather scabbards hung on her belt as well. She regarded Torr through impassive hazel eyes. Her long dark hair was worn loose, not in a ponytail. Initially, he wasn’t sure how to great her, but he quickly recalled Ahred Ulher had not offered to shake his hand either. It seemed that a curt nod was a sufficient Suthrasian greeting. Taking the initiative, Torr turned fully to the woman and gave a brief nod. He thought he caught the faintest of smiles cross her lips as she responded in kind.
“Captain Torr Skarsdale, may I introduce you to Guild Captain Perezia Sala of the Sha Haram Court”. Bernhart offered the introductions just as Torr was moving to his seat, reaching for some apple before he sat down.
“I should explain gentleman that Guild Captain Sala, and her troop of eleven men are here at my invite after I learnt of her mission to the wealds”. Torr looked round half expecting to be joined by eleven more men, given the amount of food that had been laid out. He wondered how long they had been here as he had seen no sound or sight of any other visitors on his regular rides out of Oaks Keep during the last ten-day, and that included Carodin as well. He was at a loss to guess the purpose of the meeting, of this rather eclectic group.
As if sensing Torr’s thought, Bernhart continued. “I think it is best of I allow the good captain to explain in her own words”.
Guild Captain Perezia Sala had quite a light voice. She was slim, quite attractive and, for all the world, looked like she would be more at home in noble’s court, not a battlefield. She also spoke flawless Weald, with only the hint of a Suthrasian accent.
“Gentleman, stolen goods are entering the markets of Sha Haram”.
Carodin snorted in derision as he reached for an olive. “Tell us something new. There have always been stolen goods coming out of your markets”.
Carodin looked up with some surprise at the stony silence in response to his blunt comment.
“What?” he shrugged.
Torr tried not to grin and Bernhart looked as if he was pretending not to have heard.
Perezia looked only slightly taken aback briefly before she smiled, politely, and addressed her response to Bernhart. “The young man treads heavily, but he his right”. She turned to Carodin. “More stolen goods than we have seen before are entering Sha Haram. Not the open markets, but the closed markets”. It was clear that Perezia had hoped that should be a sufficient explanation, as an opener anyway, but the blank expressions on both Carodin’s and Torr’s faces suggested otherwise.
She rolled her eyes and drew a deep breath of patience, before Bernhart intervened to save her the trouble of explaining how the markets of Sha Haram, which roughly translated as the island of trade, worked.
“There are, very broadly, two types of market on Sha Haram, open and closed. The open markets are those where purveyors and producers of all manner of goods, take their produce to sell or arrange contracts for supply with the, larger, merchant houses, who then ship the goods they have purchased onto other markets across the known world. These merchants operate out of the closed market and, by their very nature are large, international, concerns. Sha Haram is a good logistical base for them to operate out of due to its position in between the Wealds, Suthras and, to some extent, the continent of Num as well. It is equal in size and importance to the city of Pa Parag in Alrunia. Naturally therefore, every merchant house operating out of that city has interests, offices and guilds on Sha Haram. Both of your families use offices there. In fact, Perezia, Captain Culos here is related to the Ahrea family”.
Both Carodin and Perezia looked surprised at this, Carodin for wondering how or why Bernhart would know about his family tree and Perezia as to how this young Wealder could be related to one of Sha Harams longest serving merchant houses.
With her gaze still fixed on Carodin, Perezia continued with her story. “Yes, stolen goods will always get into the open market with theft a common problem even before many items have made it out of the northern ports of Suthras. There are also the shanty town dwellers that set up outside the open market. The area is rife with criminal gangs and smugglers. We only have so many men to patrol this part of our island and the coast. These petty matters are dealt with in our punitive courts as those issues only relate to a stolen casket here or a familiar looking chest there. No, the issue we now face relates to the closed markets. Large quantities of goods are being shipped off Sha Haram, only to turn up months later in th
e hands of other, well established, merchants. The financial courts cannot cope with the volume of writs being issued by the guilds operating out of the closed market. Many, once profitable, merchant houses are being forced out of business with the amount of goods they are losing. This is no accident. So, I have been placed in charge of the investigation”.
There was a pause as Perezia looked at Bernhart, having hoped that the two young men would now be able to make the leap required from that briefing to work out why she now found herself in Oaks Keep. Bernhart, to save any further blunt comments from Carodin, intervened.
“Guild Captain Sala’s investigation so far has led her to conclude that most of the goods are coming out of the southern port of Columb which, therefore, is within Weald jurisdiction. It has been agreed between myself and Lord Valheimer, well, Garel actually, I’m not sure if the Weald Lord of Sommerswake himself has been made aware of the issue. Anyway, it has been agreed that we will assist our Sha Haramian friends with this matter, given that the goods are clearly coming out of our territories. Garel has agreed to loan you two to me for this purpose”.
A slight realisation dawned on the two young men why they had, therefore, been called to Oaks Keep, but this was quickly replaced with further uncertainty and questions.
“Hang on, Columb is in the Weald of Delsk. So why are we getting involved”. Carodin seemed indignant that, somehow, it was Sommerswakes problem.
“As goods are coming out, in quite large quantities I gather”, Bernhart nodded at Perezia. “It was not felt prudent to allow the matter to be dealt with internally by a Weald who has allowed the problem to persist”.
“That is a polite way of saying that the customs and port officials in Columb are corrupt and my men and I would be in grave danger if we placed our trust in them”, Perezia grinned.
“Still” she continued, “we had to make some enquires and the port officials of Columb did seem suitably polite and helpful when approached, at least to our faces. Clearly they had loose tongues though as we then received an invitation”, Perezia pointed to Bernhart “that suggested a trip to Oaks Keep would benefit all concerned. It is many days ride north from Columb and I did wonder if we were riding into a trap. Still, why make us ride for days when our throats could be slit so easily as soon as we arrived in Columb. In any event, the note rang true”.
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