The Wandering Inn_Volume 1

by Pirateaba

  “Don’t want to be.”

  Illphres shrugged as Ceria gaped.

  “I might be able to, but that’s politics and I told you, I don’t care. Amerys—she’s famous for fighting on battlefields, but I think she’s only got eight levels or so on me. Maybe six.”

  “Six?”

  “Enough. If it came down to a duel between us she’d win.”

  That wasn’t what Ceria wanted to hear. Illphres just smacked her on the back of the head.

  “Don’t look like that. It’s about our combat styles.”

  “What do you mean? You two are friends, right? Why won’t she help you fight? I’m sure she’d love a chance to battle such powerful enemies.”

  Illphres snorted and nearly laughed outright.

  “Us? Friends? What gave you that idea? I can’t stand her.”

  “But you train all the time! Every morning I see you two—”

  “We’re competing. And yes, we sometimes train together. That’s because we’re a good match. She’s lightning and air and I’m ice and water. She prefers rapid all-out assaults and I use traps and fight drawn out battles. She doesn’t think and I plan every move.”

  “Oh.”

  “And she won’t join us. I asked.”

  “Why not?”

  “She’s waiting for her King.”

  That was all Illphres said. She and Ceria sat in silence, staring at the melting ice. After a moment, Illphres spoke again.

  “If I had a minute to prepare, or if it was a double battle—”

  “Yes?”

  “I’d win. I’m one of the best mages at fighting defensively. You saw my barriers. That will be my role in the battle. So long as I live, I will protect my teammates.”

  So long as I live. Ceria shuddered at the words. They were a frank statement about what might happen. But she didn’t want to think of it.

  —-

  To distract herself, Ceria went to Pisces more than once over the months that followed. Sometimes she came away happy, relieved that he hadn’t changed. Other times she stormed out of his room after a fight, or left wondering how the earnest young man she’d known had disappeared and been replaced by this thing. But it all came together a month before Illphres and the others planned to challenge the Golems, as Ceria let her anger explode at Pisces.

  He was busy showing her the newest spells he’d learned. Ceria tried to focus; she knew Pisces had a terrible time obtaining new spellbooks or learning from anyone. But as her attention wavered from the brilliant [Flame Rapier] spell he had mastered, she stared at something covered with cloth in the corner of the room.

  Pisces, engrossed in fencing with the flaming blade, whirled as he heard Ceria shout in surprise. She was backing away from the thing in the corner, the cloth in her hands.

  “Ceria!”

  She pointed, finger shaking.

  “Is that—”

  It was a deformed thing, barely recognizable. It was humanoid—barely. It had been made of wet clay that had dried and sculpted to look like a Human, but the sculptor, Pisces, was untrained and so the body was lumpy and the arms deformed. It had two stumps for legs.

  “Ah, I see you’ve found my latest work. I was going to show you, but—”

  “Pisces! What is it?”

  He looked surprised at Ceria’s reaction.

  “A Golem. One of my own creations. Don’t be alarmed; it’s barely functional. Worthless, really. Can’t you tell? I admit, the workmanship might be a tad shoddy, but—”

  “Get rid of it!”

  Ceria backed away from the clay thing. Pisces frowned at her.

  “What? Don’t be alarmed, Ceria, it’s not animated!”

  She rounded on him furiously.

  “What are you doing, making a Golem? Aren’t there enough around here?”

  He took a step back and stammered as Ceria shouted at him.

  “Well, I was taught.”

  “By who?”

  “Cognita.”

  The word doused the flames of Ceria’s anger in a second. She felt a chill in her stomach and stepped back from Pisces.

  “Explain.”

  “Well I—I’ve been talking with her, Ceria. You see, Cognita’s one of the only people—beings—in this academy who will give me the time of day. She’s quite brilliant, you know. She’s seen more magic than anyone in Wistram, and she taught me so many things about Golems and mage craft. She taught me how to make this Golem. Did you know that she thinks I have real aptitude? She even—”

  “Don’t talk to her! Don’t go near her!”

  “What? Why?”

  “She’s the enemy!”

  Ceria shouted at Pisces. He didn’t understand, and she couldn’t explain. She stomped over to his Golem and punched it. The brittle clay broke under her fist and Pisces shouted.

  “What are you doing? Do you know how hard I worked to—”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Ceria turned to Pisces. She thrust a finger in his chest, making him stumble back. His face was red with anger, but she was even more furious.

  “First necromancy, now—this? Why can’t you practice normal magic? Why can’t you just be a normal mage? Everyone would accept you then? Why don’t you get a normal master and stop—”

  “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”

  Pisces shoved Ceria’s hand away. She blinked. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. Pisces nearly shouted, his voice cracking with passion.

  “I’ve gone to every mage—every one I know or thought would consider having me as an apprentice. I’ve asked—none of them were willing to teach me even when I told them I’d swear off necromancy as long as I studied under them! No one will teach me, and I’m not going to afford the fees for next year! Don’t you understand!?”

  After his outburst there was silence. Ceria stared at Pisces and slowly sank back into his chair. He couldn’t look at her.

  “Necromancy? That’s just raising the dead. Some might object, but It’s no curse. But the fools who claim to be mages here treat it as such. Thus, I suppose the curse is indeed real—though by the prejudices and limited understanding of others.”

  “You’re going to leave?”

  He looked at her, on the brink of tears.

  “I have to. I have no coin, no one to speak for me. The only hope I have is a master, but who would take me as their apprentice?”

  Ceria’s mind raced. The word came out before she could think about it.

  “Illphres. My master. She might.”

  Pisces stared at her, but then shook his head, closing her eyes.

  “She will say no. I know Illphres—she would never agree.”

  “I could ask—”

  “She’ll say no.”

  Pisces turned away. He walked back over to the broken Golem and stared at it.

  “Leave me, Springwalker. I am—busy. I have work to do, especially if this year is to be my last.”

  She stared at him, and then slowly walked out of the room. Only after she felt a bit of liquid dripping from her hand did she realize the clay Golem’s shards had cut her skin.

  —-

  “Take Pisces on as an apprentice? No. Don’t be stupid.”

  Illphres looked at Ceria as though she were mad when Ceria brought it up to her the next day. The two were sitting on the edge of the walkway above the ocean.

  Just sitting. Ceria had gotten over her fear of heights, mainly because Illphres had made her come up here to practice. A mage could have no weaknesses, after all. She stared down at the sea below, fighting her belly.

  “Why not? He’s smart, gifted—he needs a master or he won’t be able to stay!”

  “Too bad, I guess. But I’m not teaching him.”

  “Why?”

  Illphres took her time in replying. She’d grown—not warmer, but maybe a bit softer towards Ceria over the year. In the last month, she was downright friendly at times. Both could feel it. The time of the challenge was approaching fast.

&nbs
p; “He’s not my type.”

  Ceria nearly tumbled off the bridge in shock. Illphres clarified after giving Ceria a smack on the arm.

  “I mean that he will never be an ice mage. You might, or at least, you’ll learn Skills and change your class from what I’ve taught you. But that boy is a [Necromancer] through and through. I don’t feel like teaching someone who won’t follow in my footsteps.”

  “But if you’d speak for him—”

  “I don’t need to. And none of the others will take him on as an apprentice either, Ceria.”

  “Why? Pisces is—”

  “Don’t you understand? After the end of this month, none of it will matter.”

  Ceria’s eyes widened. Illphres nodded.

  “That’s right. After the challenge, i—when we win, all of the bickering , the factions and the politics…”

  She paused.

  “Well, it’ll probably go on as normal. But we’ll be on top.”

  “How? If you defeat the Golems—”

  “We’ll prove that our way works. Mages will rally to us, and those that don’t will have to fight to venture higher. But we’ll be guarding the entrance. It might be a war, or it might be quiet, but the Council won’t sit and pass decisions any longer. It will be every mage for themselves, as it used to be. As it should be.”

  Ceria tried to imagine it. She thought of Calvaron and Beatrice fighting for more power and shook her head.

  “I think things might still be the same.”

  “Really? You might be right. We’ll see. But one thing I can promise you: when we open the higher levels of Wistram up, I’ll use my influence. You, Pisces, and all the other mages who have a spine and a brain will stay.”

  “As the Isolationists?”

  “As mages. True mages.”

  That was all Illphres said. Ceria stared at her, and realized that Illphres was the first Human she’d ever known that she truly looked up to. She’d admired Pisces for his brilliance, but Illphres was different. She was actually a bit younger than Ceria, but she felt so much older. She shone, and she stood higher than the half-Elf, reaching for the stars.

  Ceria couldn’t say any of this out loud, of course. If she did Illphres would probably toss her into the ocean. Instead, she just turned and stared at the dark night sky.

  “When the day comes, I’ll be waiting for you outside the doors. So make sure you finish the battle quickly, okay? I don’t feel like waiting long.”

  “Insolent girl.”

  Illphres’ voice was amused. Ceria didn’t look at her, but she knew the woman was smiling.

  “I’ll take as long as I please. And when it’s over I’ll make you practice twice as hard learning all the spells you need to be halfway competent.”

  “Promise?”

  The woman was silent for a long time. After a while, she sighed.

  “Of course.”

  They stared out across the ocean. Ceria felt a humming in her bones, a tightness in her chest that didn’t go away when she slept. She felt as though she could run a thousand miles from sheer nervous energy, and that she didn’t want to move a muscle at the same time.

  There was one month left. One month.

  Until it would all be over.

  Wistram Days (Pt. 7)

  Her name was Cognita. That was what she told the people she met.

  Her name was Cognita. She had once been shaped and given life by Archmage Zelkyr, the greatest expert in Golem creation of his era. Perhaps ever. Because Cognita was a Truestone Golem.

  The word itself was a symbol of her authority. Truestone Golems or Truestone Constructs as they were once known were thought to be the pinnacle of artificial creation. For if Cognita was not the strongest Golem that could be made, she alone had what other Golems lacked. Personality. Thought. Feeling.

  Perhaps even a soul.

  But who could tell? Few people found Golems reassuring, despite their usefulness. And Cognita was feared for reasons beyond just her nature.

  She killed mages. She had killed hundreds, perhaps thousands. And yet she was subservient, helpful, polite. So those who met her were both terrified and confused by her, because a monster should look and act like a monster.

  But what Cognita actually thought was a mystery. At all times her carved eyes judged and saw, but never gave away anything. She had seen countless mages, seen their triumph and their end. She looked at two more now.

  One was a half-Elf, the other a Human. Both were young by the standards of their species. Once, they had been friends. The Golem saw traces of it still, even as they argued.

  “They won’t ever let you stay. Not after what you said.”

  “They haven’t accepted me thus far, Springwalker. Why should those fools change their minds now?”

  “Don’t call me Springwalker! And you know damn well there’s a difference between keeping your head down and poking the beehive!”

  Pisces and Ceria were shouting in front of Cognita, a rarity in itself. Few people raised their voices anywhere around the Golem, but Pisces knew Cognita. He alone had sought her out, asked her questions, befriended her.

  Ceria just didn’t care. She was close to kicking the mage—again. He hopped away from her, glaring.

  “Those philistines that make up the so-called Council—they are blind to what I proposed, but you at least should be able to consider the implications of what I’ve said!”

  “Implications? You want to create an undead that can level, Pisces! You’re an idiot! If you succeeded you’d destroy the world, but that won’t happen because it’s impossible!”

  He raised a shaking finger. He was angry. He was always angry, and hurt, of late. So was the half-Elf. Together, Cognita saw fury and fear on both sides clashing together.

  “It is possible. In theory! Didn’t you listen to my proposal? If I were to create an undead by weaving the spells into it on a much more in-depth level than normal—something closer to how a Golem is created than a body is animated—it might work!”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “What’s wrong with that idea? I have all the pieces of the puzzle in my possession—almost. Cognita taught me the formula used for embodying Golems with sentience, don’t you see? That alone—”

  “Only you would be stupid enough to ask! Cognita is—”

  Pause. The half-Elf’s face shifted towards Cognita and the Golem saw her red cheeks pale slightly. She looked away rather than meet the Golem’s gaze.

  “Sorry, Cognita. But Pisces—you’re a fool. It would never work. Why hasn’t a [Necromancer] done it before? Two reasons. One—it’s stupid and the second is that if the undead could level, they’d destroy entire nations!”

  “I would only make one. And it is possible, but only with the correct base materials.”

  Pisces’ voice was calm. He stared at his former friend, speaking with the conviction that was halfway into insanity. He glanced at Cognita too, but his gaze was burning. He looked at the Golem not as a threat or something to be feared, but as a challenge. A vision of what could be done.

  “Golems require high-grade materials to be built. Mana stones, rock without impurity—Cognita, if I may refer to your construction, you are a product of both spellcraft and the superior base products from which you were given life. So why not apply that theory in the case of the undead? Most bodies are just that, bodies. But if there were a way to obtain superior parts—”

  “Parts?”

  Cognita turned back to look at the half-Elf. She was furious. And the Golem knew the conversation was over. Ceria pointed a shaking finger at Pisces.

  “You’re—disgusting. And insane. And I don’t have time to argue with you. If you want to go spouting off crazy theories, go ahead. I’m going to practice real magic.”

  She stormed off. Pisces called to her once as she left, but Ceria did not turn her head. He turned back to Cognita in frustration.

  “I’m sorry you had to witness that, Cognita. Please, accept my apologies. I thought I cou
ld convince Ceria with your help, but she is unwilling to listen to reason.”

  Cognita made no immediate reply. She could have told Pisces a thousand things, spoken from decades of observation. Some would help, others might shatter the young man. After a moment, Cognita made a decision and spoke while looking Pisces in the eye.

  “She cannot accept what you do. And you cannot accept that she does not consider you a friend. Perhaps the question is then whether you value friendship or magic more.”

  He was speechless. He opened his mouth to respond, but Cognita strode down the hallway after Ceria.

  —-

  “Ceria Springwalker.”

  If it had been Pisces or anyone else, Ceria would have ignored them or shoved them aside. But Cognita’s deep, inflectionless voice made her tense in sudden fear. She turned, trying to conceal the fear in her heart.

  “Yes, Cognita?”

  “I believe Pisces would like me to express his apologies in his stead. However, I will not do so. I would merely like to speak with you for a few more moments if you have time.”

  Ceria paused. She was still furious at Pisces, livid. His presentation to the Council had set Wistram in an uproar, and he was now more of a pariah than he had been before.

  That wasn’t the only reason she was so angry, though. The day Illphres would challenge Archmage Zelkyr’s Golems was only two weeks away. And so Ceria was angry, frightened, and nervous. But she tried to hide all that from Cognita.

  The Golem was the enemy.

  “Talk to me? I—sure, Cognita. Why do you want to talk?”

  “Hearing your reactions and thoughts intrigues me. I was created to think and learn, and this topic—and your discussion—is interesting to me in a way few things are.”

  That was extraordinary. And unhelpful. Ceria stared at Cognita as if searching for a weak point. But the stone woman was flawless.

  “I guess I can talk.”

  “Very well. Thank you.”

  The Golem fell silent. After a few seconds of awkwardness, Ceria realized Cognita was waiting for her to speak. Ceria didn’t know what to say. She’d said what she thought. Pisces was insane. His idea was insane. But Cognita—