“Yes . . . Eric?”
“You will wait for me, right? You won't take on the whole band by yourself?”
Kasile grin cockily. “Afraid of losing your chance to be a knight in shining armor?” Eric stared. “All right. I won't take on the whole band.”
“You promise?”
Kasile put her hand over her heart and said, “I, Kasile Landros Ataidar, promise to wait a reasonable amount of time for Eric Watley to rescue me.”
Eric raised an eyebrow. “A 'reasonable' amount of time?”
“Yes, it's been almost a month already,” Kasile replied. To which Eric felt a great deal of guilt. “You don't have to feel guilty. I know your promise was spur of the moment.”
“What does guilt look like?”
“Eric!” Dengel shouted. “Why aren't you practicing the new spells?!”
“I'm teaching Kasile about mana bolts. Don't worry, I practiced.”
Dengel couldn't see Kasile or her mana bolts and so he insisted Eric prove his second claim. Well, I am supposed to be asleep right now . . . I guess am. Aw . . . this telepathic stuff is confusing.
One of the spells was a mana bolt made of darkness; a dark bolt. It was thrown at the target and instead of hurting them, it would create a field of darkness to obscure their vision. Dengel called it “offensive concealment” and was the brand he decided to focus on for their infiltration. A novice mage wouldn't stand a chance strong arming his way in; neither his spirit nor mana reserves would be sufficient to challenge the older and more experienced warriors inside.
“Eric! Wake up!” Nolien's voiced called. “We've got company!”
Eric jolted awake to a large shadowy figure approaching. It drifted in and out of sight; burnished iron, orange and red fur, a large muzzle. Its nose sniffed the dirt then lifted to taste the scents floating in the air. Eric grabbed his staff and began casting the lupine—
“Don't bother,” Basilard said. His sword was drawn and his eyes never left the monster. “I'm already using it.” The words died in Eric's throat. “The Anacran appeared a minute ago. It stopped as it passed and draws closer by the second.”
The monster was mere yards away. It was easily bigger than a Xethras in every respect. If it stood up straight, its head would bump the ceiling. Maybe that's why its nose is always to the ground . . . and why it depends . . . The iron chunks were part of its body; molding over its limbs and back and head like armor. Black stains coated them, but nowhere more than the claws and mouth.
“My spell is slowing it down, but it will know exactly where we are any time now. This, Miss Anuzat, is why I told you concealment spells were unreliable.”
The merchant crossed her arms. “It's buying us time.”
“It has our scent. It will follow. Besides, I already have a plan.”
Basilard held his sword vertically before his face, closed his eyes, and began to speak. Unlike the silly rhymes in his book, this was a true magical incantation. Every cell in Eric's body resonated with it. The ground below him, the air around him, the entire world seemed to listen.
“Source of my blood and its destination, giver and taker of life, founder of our clan, I beseech thee.” The blade shined blue. “Grant your power to this sword . . .“ The blue shifted to blood red.
The Anacran was in striking distance. It looked directly at the sapients and licked its lips.
“And destroy those that stand before me!” Basilard opened his eyes and pointed his sword, now crackling with power. “BLOOD'S ANCESTOR!”
A flood of red light consumed the Anacran. When the spell faded, there was nothing left of it, not even ashes. The passage was bigger!
“Can you say 'overkill'?” Tiza asked.
Basilard nonchalantly sheathed his sword. “I felt like redeeming myself.”
“Redeeming yourself,” his novices repeated.
“Yes,” Basilard said with a shrug. “The first time you see your mentor in action, he almost dies. I can't expect you to take me seriously after that.” He gestured to Anuzat. “She didn't.”
“I never did.”
“But, Daylra! It was a pack of xethras using that 'Soul Union' thing! I didn't lose faith in you.”
“Thank you, Eric, but it's more than that.” He patted his sheath.” Maybe now I can stop talking about—and using—concealment spells.”
“You can start telling me why you didn't use that spell,” Anuzat replied.
Basilard grinned. “The Trickster made me do it.”
Eric gasped. The locals groaned.
“I did use it,” Basilard continued. “After I finished the xethras, something else attacked me.” Basilard paused to stab and spell a four-mouthed megaworm that burst from the ground. As it shriveled, he plucked its fangs. “My priority was getting you out of the danger zone.”
“Where was my caravan in your plan?”
Basilard shrugged and gave her the worm fangs.
Eventually the ground curved upwards and Eric's heart leaped. Only hours to Ataidar and days to Roalt and then he could finally get Kasile's rescue underway. Of course, the curve meant walking uphill with a heavy pack, but Eric was too excited to notice his legs screaming at him. At last, they emerged from the cave into the golden light of the morning sun. The sea of grass awaiting them was a welcome sight after the sea of sand they'd been in for the last three weeks. A cool breeze blew by.
“Finally,” Anuzat muttered. “I'm ready to put this trip behind me.”
Only a few more days until I can begin. Eric repeated it over and over again. Dengel told him to stop because it was giving him a headache.
Four days later, Roalt's East Gate came into view. The last time Eric saw it he didn't know the wall designs were runes; now he knew the meaning behind twenty and what was powering them. The sun set on his back in this final leg home.
Tiza giggled; a bloodthirsty giggle that sent a chill down Eric's spine. She was admiring the horns on her new necklace. Unlike the outgoing trip, Anuzat had no guards to defend her from the monsters between the Yacian Mountains and Roalt. Tiza jumped at the chance. After she killed a Horlf, Anuzat taught her to transform it into wearable battle trophies. Nolien was content as well; his teammate's blood had been on those horns.
The gate opened with minimal fuss and swiftly closed behind them. Anuzat sighed as they crossed the threshold. “At last I can make some money . . . Maybe.”
“You still have to pay us,” Basilard said.
“I know!” Anuzat snapped.
“Uh . . . Miss Anuzat . . .”
“What!? You'll get the extra too, so what is it!?” Eric was intimidated by her shout, and the way her legs were twitching, but continued with encouragement from Dengel.
“Have you seen the xethras use soul union before?”
“Of course not! If I had, I would l would have hired regulars.”
Then it must be a rare phenomenon, something new, or something few live to talk about . . .
Under Anuzat's direction, they carried her merchandise to a small shop in Merchant Town. Although every other one was built with wood, stone or metal with a solid coat of paint this one was made of clay with odds and ends poking out. Standing on top of the building was a wooden sign:
Motsuc's Workshop
Medicine, Clothing, Tools, and Everything Else
All custom made to your specifications
The walls were indeed made of junk; everything from scrap iron to driftwood, chariot wheels, trash cans and even a kitchen sink! The desk, however, was a real desk and a finely made one too. Eric expected something outlandish like a bathtub. Behind the desk, and beyond the back door, was a great racket; a clanking and clattering and general ruckus.
Anuzat pounded on the desk. “Motsuc! I've got a delivery!” Two zlenkies slithered through air, hit the floor, and kept going. Mine would never do that. Are they magic?
“Beep! Sorry, I can't come to the desk right now,” the zlenkies said. “I'm in the middle of a important order and thus I cannot
be disturbed.”
Anuzat's hind legs twitched. She grabbed the zlenkies, twisted them together, and threw them into the back room. “Motsuc!!! Get out here right now or I double the rate!” The ruckus suddenly ceased and footsteps hurried to the desk.
A tall and lanky man appeared in the doorway. He was very pale and wore denim overalls stained with oil, dye, and food. His hair was up in a similarly messy band. “How's my favorite nomad?”
“I've told you a thousand times, I'm not a nomad.”
“You travel a great distance, in a regular pattern, to make your living. Isn't that nomadic?”
A furry foot flexed over his face. “One more word and it's triple.”
Motsuc held up his hands in surrender. “All right, all right! What do you have for me this time?”
With great relief, Eric dropped his bag. Anuzat heaved them all on the desk and pointed to each one in turn as she listed off its contents. “Bones, iron sand, pelts, crystals, clothing, and herbs.”
Motsuc examined each and nodded in approval. Pulling out several bags of coins, he set them next to Anuzat's merchandise.
“I'll make great stuff with this. As always, it's a pleasure doing business with you.” The merchant and craftsman exchanged bags. “Oh and you all!” he said to the mercenaries. “I make weapons, armor, and accessories too! Come to me and I'll give you a great deal.” Without waiting for them to respond, he dragged the supplies to his workshop and the ruckus started up again.
Anuzat rubbed her forehead. Gathering her resolve, she split the coins bags between her profit and expenses. The former was disappointingly small. “Escort and transport.”
Basilard bowed his head. “Like Motsuc said, it's a pleasure.”
Anuzat ignored him, walked straight to Tiza, and gave her a hug. What surprised Eric was that Tiza hugged back. “Promise me you won't go pulling tails off boack again.”
Tiza lopsidedly smiled. “I promise—I'll slice them off instead!”
Anuzat smiled and shook her head. “You are indeed crazy, little mercenary.”
The boys stared in amazement. Basilard stared at his book.
“What!” Tiza demanded. She didn't look as threatening as usual, being as she was enveloped in a hug, but the boys still sputtered, “N-nothing's'.” Anuzat chuckled and drew away.
“Make sure you keep these boys in line,” Tiza responded with a scary smirk. “Oh, and one more thing.” Anuzat loomed over the novices. “If any of you ever tells anyone the password I told my old man, they will hunt you down, rip out your intestines, and suffocate you with them.” The boys gulped and nodded their heads in agreement.
“I thought you weren't a nomad?” Tiza asked.
“I'm not, but it's nomad tradition. They're bending the rules allowing me to use it. If outsiders banded it about, I'd be exiled! Not that I'm not! It’s just that . . . my dad . . .he's ah . . .”
“We get it.” Tiza said.
“You do?” Nolien asked. Tiza stomped on his foot. “We do.”
Much later, Eric traveled the basalt tunnels to the Squad One Lounge. After reporting to Mia and getting their pay, he asked Tiza to guide him there. She reacted with great annoyance, but then said she was going there anyways. However, when they arrived, she immediately left for the training hall. Eric shelved that puzzle for a later day. It shouldn't be too hard . . . just look for the giant—He stumbled over a hairy body.
“Watch it!” the dog barked.
“Sorry! Sorry . . .”
“Stupid two-leggers . . .” the dog muttered. “They think they can ignore us . . .”
A woman tapped him on the head. “Come on, Jet, don't take your frustration out on the novice.” Jet huffed and licked himself. “Eric Watley, right?” Her hair was short, her clothes were close fitting, and she smelled strongly of dogs.
“Yeah. You're . . .Kae Ninena . . . the one that shares a plate with a pack.”
“Really, I must apologize for my partner. He's just frustrated over our mission.” Said partner's tail beat the floor hard enough to crack it. “We were hired to sniff out the princess, but the trail is dead; Scent, mana, life energy—” Eric's eyes widened.
Now what?
We should not need it . . . We shall simply use another meth . . . Yes . . .of course . . .this method is infinitely preferable! Eric, listen closely. The new plan . . .
Does it involve giving you control of my body?
You do not trust me!?
The Mother Dragon says, 'Give everyone a chance to shake your hand but not to stab you in the back. Be trusting, not naive.'
That is something she would say . . .
You knew the—
Not important! I am under no obligation to tell you my life history.
But you do anyways . . .
“Eric!” Kae was shaking his shoulder. “You all right?”
“I'm fine.” When he saw the grin on Kae's face, he suddenly wasn't.
“If you feel sick . . . I could call Hasina.”
“NO! Just lost in thought is all.“ Kae chuckled. “Uh . . .Miss Ninena . . .”
Kae full blown laughed and clapped Eric on the shoulder. “Lighten up, kid. Don't you remember what Leader Ridley said when she welcomed you?”
“The Guild is our home and everyone in it is family,” Eric recited. Basilard repeated it so often he couldn't forget if he tried.
“You can call me Kae or Auntie or even 'Dog Lady.'”
Eric swallowed once before asking. “Do you know where Culmus is?”
“Mr. Clearly Compensating? Course not, but Jet will.” She knelt beside the black lab and scratched his back. Jet relaxed under her hand. “Partner, how would you like to sniff out Culmus?”
“Ahhhh . . . sure . . . ohh that . . .” He couldn't speak coherently until Kae stopped petting him. “ . . . That guy spends more time cleaning his sword than himself.” Both human and dog stood up as one.
“Thank you,” Eric said, but Kae waved his gratitude away
“Don't mention it. Jet needs something to take his mind off the case for a while anyway.” She leaned close to Eric, cupped her mouth, and whispered as softly as possible, “He's a little high strung.”
“I am not high strung!” Jet's ears shot up, his hackles raised, and his tail whipped across his body. “I just like completing missions as efficiently . . . ahhhh.” His ears and rump dropped and his tail slowed to a drag. Kae was rubbing him behind the ears.
Eric sweat dropped. Before him were two coworkers similar as in his homeworld, but with one key difference: one was a dog and his partner sedated him with petting. It was one more reason why this world was crazy. The fact that he enjoyed watching must be evidence that he himself was going crazy.
“Okay, now we can go,” Kae said.
“Where are the other dogs?”
“They're still searching. They'll report to us if they find anything.”
“Alpha male and alpha female?”
Jet snorted. “Like we haven't heard that one before.”
The black lab sniffed to the Black Town of Determination and Shadows. The buildings here were piled high on top of each other with each new layer built differently than the one before it. There were more people here than in any other part of town and all of them had their own voice and smell. It was giving Eric a headache; he could only imagine how it affected his companion's heightened senses.
“Will Jet be okay?” When he received no answer, he pushed through the crowd and finally found her talking to someone. The ten-foot praying mantis waved her feelers and walked off.
“She said she heard a guy with a large sword was causing trouble at Rest Easy.”
“Is Jet going to be okay?” Eric asked again.
The black lab was still circling the intersection.
“Oh, he'll be fine. We've been in nosier and smellier places than this.”
Rest Easy was the biggest tavern in the district. It covered an entire block and reached higher any other building. A brass statue of
a guy with mugs stood up front. Behind it was a door hanging on loose hinges. The floor was littered with tables, bottles, and drunkards, and surrounded by dirty yellow wallpaper and a bar. A radio and the slamming of glass on wood added to the din of voices. Another sound was flesh pounding flesh.
A man with rough purple hair, metal plates on his left shoulder and lower right arm was slugging it out with another guy. Even from a distance, they could see the blade covering his back.
“Culmus!” Kae called above the other voices, “Are you here for information or to blow off steam?” Culmus had his opponent by the collar.
“Boh.” He punched the guy out. Kae sighed, stepped over drunken or unconscious bodies, and pulled the man away from her guild mate.
“What did he ever do to you?”
“Ee lauffed at me!”
Kae sighed again. “The sword again? What has Leader told you about—”
“Wast sword . . .quest.” Culmus replied. Kae tossed the black-and-blue thug away and sat Culmus down at the nearest table. Eric gingerly followed.
“Dree weeks! dence she dwas daken way!” He grabbed a full jug from a nearby patron and glared the poor gal into letting him keep it. “Skree leaks!”
“We know,” Kae said. “What happened next?”
“Swell . . . I askkzed for a round and by da . . .uh . . . da keeper askkzed reason, an I told 'em. It's been a bree whole beaks!”
“We know,” Kae said.
“Den dis . . .punklaffed at me! Laughin'!” He raised the mug, but Kae grabbed and returned it.
“You've had enough!”
Culmus continued as if he hadn't noticed. “Ow can ya laugh ata man grievin' in rum!? There hada be a reason! . . . e dnew swear she dwas! He dnew I'd swever vind her! Dat's why e was laughin'!”
Eric, the handkerchief!
“Culmus . . . do you still have Kasile's handkerchief?” Culmus leveled his eyes on Eric, and even though alcohol clouded his vision, they were sharp.
“Pankersief? Why in ta world bwold I have the beautiful Kasile's sandercbeaf?”
A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) Page 27