Hasina was about to answer when Culmus retched. The first thing to come out of his mouth was brown and Hasina smiled. The second thing was red and she frowned. Each heave after that was a mixture of the two. Culmus was throwing up blood.
“Uh-oh . . . Don't worry! I'm not the captain of healers for nothing!”
She leveled her staff at Culmus and encased him in a sphere of white light. She raised him off the floor and deepened the light. Pointing a finger at the pool of blood on her office floor, both glowed. The blood arose from the ground and melded with the sphere, tainting it pink. Eric asked what he could do to help and Hasina told him to keep track of time.
Half an hour later, Culmus stopped heaving and lay still. The sphere projected a screen of medical data. Hasina scanned it and issued directions to it as she would to an assistant. Eric didn't get it all, but it sounded plausible in theory; if Maxwell's demon worked in medicine instead of physics. Finally, Hasina released him and Eric checked his pulse. It was weak but there. Hasina wrote her observations on a clipboard; her lips quirked up and the light of discovery in her eyes.
“Fascinating! Giants and humans are similar in all respects but size and weight and the effects are so much more violent in the latter!” The glow faded and her lips inverted. “Then again . . . I suppose that's normal. The two traits that matter most are the ones that differ.” She put the pen behind her ear, crossed her arms, and craned her neck back. “I'll need to run more tests . . . and maybe add elves . . .”
Yep, she's back to normal . . . For better or worse. “Will he be okay?”
“Yes, of course. I replaced the blood and my sphere didn't report any internal injuries or trauma. He'll be fine with rest and a meal.”
“But he's unconscious!”
“He'll wake up . . . eventually. My guess is sometime tomorrow.” A pool of smelly liquid stained the floor and Hasina bottled it with a new vial. “It works so much better on giants.”
Ya think!?
Chapter 14 Rescue
Fear for his ally turned Eric into a insomniac. He wouldn't have gotten any sleep at all if Hasina hadn't cast a sleeping spell when he wasn't looking.
She caught me!
Regaining consciousness and fearing the answer, he wriggled his wrists. They moved freely. He opened his eyes and he was in the infirmary, not a mad scientist lair; lying in a hospital cot, not on an examining board. Both were such an enormous relief, he fell back against the sheets. They were crisp and soft, and the room was peaceful and quiet. His bridgehouse was often a stage for drunkards and their awful singing. It almost made him want to get sick just to sleep here.
In the bed next to him was Culmus, tucked in and fast asleep. Rest: check. Breakfast was almost over by the time he arrived in the mess hall. The remaining mercenaries were cleaning their plates and their eyes followed him as he filled two of his own. Out of shame, he cast Dark Veil. It was a remarkably natural gesture.
If he's here, then he's not helping his team . . .
Preposterous! They are amazed you gave up your slice of the fee to sleep in. Eat. You have a more important job ahead of you than the menial drudge work of novices.
With plates in hand, he returned to the Infirmary to find Culmus still asleep. He asked the healer on duty who assured him that Culmus would wake up any minute. Eric smiled mischievously.
It was something his brother did to him every weekend. He picked up a piece of bacon and laid it across Culmus's face between his nose and upper lip. Culmus's hand drifted over it. Sleepily he pushed it in his mouth. His face flushed and his eyes shot open. Eric handed him the glass of milk he needed to wash out the five alarm hot sauce.
“Morning,” the trickster said. “How do you feel?”
Culmus chugged the glass and finished Eric's before he responded. “I should gut you for that.”
“How do you feel?” Eric repeated.
“Not hung over . . .” He touched his forehead and rotated his limbs. “Why am I not hung over?”
“Because you risked your life last night on an instant cure.”
His hands were squeezing Eric's throat before he move. “What did Hasina do to me?”
“P-Patic-cion ur-urine . . .” He wriggled and the grasp tightened. “N-nothing . . .p-permanent . . .”
Culmus glared. “If you were anyone else, I'd snap your neck, but Uncle Basilard likes you.” He let go. “You'd better have a good explanation.”
“I can find Kasile and—” Boing! Culmus bounced off Eric's barrier and back to the bed.
It only diminished the warrior's evil eye. “Where is she!? Tell me!”
Eric held up the handkerchief. “I don't know, but this will lead us to her.”
Darkness; nothing but solid and empty darkness everywhere. Unlike in Tasio's mine, he remained calm. About one minute later, the full sights and sounds and smells of the Infirmary returned.
“You better keep your word,” Culmus said. “I have friends that can send you to the Abyss.”
“Uh . . . it'll work . . .don't worry.” What's that about?
A weird experience; blinked and plugged his ears and clogged his nose at the same time. It is nothing. I suppose you could be sleepy. You did not get as much sleep last night as you should have.
“We'll need food, and water too.” Culmus told him as he strapped on his gauntlets. “There's no telling how far away they are . . . do you have a weapon besides that staff?” Eric shook his head. “Then we'll need to get you one.” Culmus finished the final touch, securing his sword to his back, and marched out of the sick bay. “Come on!”
First, they gathered food and water. Since they weren't on an official mission, they couldn't use the guild's resources and the costs came out of their own pockets. Fortunately, Culmus was a Regular with deep pockets. He even bought Eric a dagger at the Arsenal Lodge.
“Here.” He tossed the sheath at his companion. “Hide it somewhere.” Eric caught the weapon and fumbled before obtaining a firm grip. He looked himself over for a good place and paused.
“Isn't there a law against having a concealed weapon? Or having one without a permit?”
“Look around, Eric,” Culmus said in reply.
The two mercenaries were not the only ones in the shop. A troll browsed the spear aisle and a pair of tiger demons examined a collection of clubs. At the back of the room, a company of elves were selling enchanted weapons, and next to them, a human man helped his son reach the wooden swords.
“That troll could smash our human bones with less difficulty than a mace and those tigers have claws as good as daggers. Elves are born with a breed of magic that no other race possesses and I bet that man has a formidable spirit. Then there's you, a mage who can summon fire. Tell me, Eric, are they concealing permit-less weapons?”
Eric shook his head.
“Then there are the ever-present monsters. One step beyond the safety of the walls and you could be attacked by a savage creature that cares nothing for sapient laws. Everyone knows self-defense and many carry weapons. Regulating hand-helds is pointless.”
Ax and his son clapped.
“Well said,” the blacksmith said to the warrior. “Your father would be proud to see your oratory skills haven't deteriorated.”
Culmus sniffed and put a hand over his eyes. “Thank you . . .Uncle Ax.”
Eric looked back and forth. “Uncle?”
“Honorary,” Ax clarified. “My last shop was in Stratos before . . . well . . .I've sure you learned that in school.” Eric nodded. “When wall runes fail, it's not a pretty sight. Are you buying that?”
In his left hand, Eric held the dagger. In his right, he held a vest. It was light, sleeveless, and zipped down the front. On the outside, the manufacturer’s name and crest were sewn. On the inside, runes protected its wear against silence curses. “No situation is more dangerous for a mage than losing their magecraft.” The phrase was repeated at the start of every chapter in Dengel's book.
“Yes.”
He
paid for the Mage's Freedom, slipped it on, and zipped it up; a perfect fit.
Back on the street, Eric pulled out the handkerchief. It pulsed slowly yet steadily. They walked to the port in Sailor town and the pulse decreased. As they traveled back east to Artisan Town the pulsation sped up and then decreased again when they arrived at the East Gate. They walked south to Scholar Town and then North to Merchant Town with the same results.
Are you sure this thing works?
Of course!
But if the pulsing only drops off at the city limits then it says Kasile's still in the city.
Then she is still in the city.
“According to the handkerchief, Kasile's still in the city.”
“No way! If she was still in the city, someone would have found her.”
A second sweep confirmed Dengel's statement. Kasile is here . . . somewhere. North, South, East, West; the handkerchief pulsed at the same rate in all four.
They returned to the Red Town of Sword and Staff for lunch. Culmus suggested Sieg's Bistro. Like much of the town, it was warrior themed. The entire staff knew Culmus and some of them even bowed their heads as he passed. He was seated immediately and their server asked if he wanted “his usual.” It was ready remarkably quick; almost as though they made it ahead of time. Eric's curiosity got the better of him and he asked about this special treatment. Culmus responded by slamming his fist on the table.
“We searched all morning and found nothing!”
“uh . . .What if she was not only still in the city . . . but still in the palace?”
Culmus jabbed his drumstick at Eric. “Now I know you're talking crazy. There is no way the Black Cloaks stashed her in the palace. It was searched first.”
Eric swallowed. “How come?”
Culmus ripped off a bite. “Because it was the last place they thought she'd be.”
“They looked in the last place first?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Somehow, that kind of logic made sense.
“If not the palace what about underneath it? Catacombs, sewers, somewhere really deep?”
“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go into the sewers.”
They paid, left the restaurant and found a manhole into Roalt's sewer system. It was sealed by a charmed lid and a rune lock. Culmus held his guild badge above the rune and both glowed. The bolts released and the manhole opened.
Culmus ignored the ladder and jumped straight in. Eric took his time. The walls of the sewer were cracked in places and covered in graffiti. The floor was covered in Nature's own; tendrils of glowing green slime. The ladder terminated on solid ground, but three feet away was a river. Eric could smell the waste of countless people drifting by.
He had never seen such a dreary, slimy, creepy place. Except for the Yacian Caverns, but that was a different kind of creepy. The caverns were “bogeyman” creepy: you looked into every shadow for a monster. The sewers were “ghost story” creepy: something to scare your younger brother into wetting his pants. By the river's bright green glow, he saw skeletons lying against the wall.
“Scared?”
“No!”
“It's all right. Monsters live down here despite all attempts to get rid of them.”
Eric reached for his staff. “Are they strong?”
“Like cockroaches. Is it working any better?”
Eric didn't need to check, he could feel it. The more he puzzled, the more it made sense. Kasile was force fed awful tasting water; sewer water. “She's here.”
“Excellent!” Culmus shouted and his joy echoed off the tunnel walls. He pivoted and pointed to the far end. “Onward!” He ran across patches of sunlight to the far door.
Little of it reached this place and yet mold and fungi clung to the walls and ceiling and grass poked through the floor. The stream of glowing green slime followed them all the way.
“Why is the sewer water glowing?”
“The water's charmed so no one falls in. It was Kasile's idea, you know.” His eyes gained a far-off look. “Always thinking of others . . .” He wavered and his left foot stepped over the slime.
“Watch it!” Eric shouted. Culmus froze mid-step, wobbled, and then stood firmly at the edge of the sea. “It would be ironic if explaining why Kasile charmed the slime made you sink into it.”
“Yeah . . .”
A minute of silence was all Eric could stand. He had ask.
“How did you two meet anyway?” It was a puzzle that bugged him since the day he first saw them at the palace gates. He couldn't think of any way other than her hiring him for a mission, but they seemed too close for that.
“We've known each other for five years.” Culmus replied softly, the far-off look back in his eyes. “Our families have been friends for ages.”
“Really? Mercenary and royal families as long time friends?”
Culmus paused. “I am not a mercenary. I am a noble.”
Eric paused. “A warrior noble at the southern border of the country that is famous for its dislike of the capital because its fire imagery is too close to chaos. This bothers them because their community is closer in culture to the nearby country of Ozid, which values law, structure, continuity, and other Order based virtues instead of the innovation and trickery prized by Chaos because it is populated solely by orcs. One hundred years ago Squlom the Heavy rebelled against your ancestor to force Stratos leave Ataidar for Ozid because he believed they were better off with the orcs.”
Culmus stared.
“I spent nine days in a library.”
“Be that as it may . . .” Culmus said. “My family is still one of the Four Pillars of Ataidar. I knew her from a meeting I went to with my parents, though I didn't really know her until five years ago.”
“Which comes back to my question: how?”
“She welcomed me; took care of me; assured me that Stratos would rise again. She's so kind and thoughtful . . . and beautiful . . .”
Eric face-palmed.
In the next room was a ladder leading deeper into the sewer. It might have once been black iron but now it was stained green with slime. Eric flinched at the thought of touching it; they were bound to feel nasty and there was the chance he'd slip. It made him wish he'd sprung for gloves at the Arsenal Lodge. Without a word, Culmus climbed down and Eric followed. The noticeable increase in the handkerchief's pulsation pushed him forward.
Without the occasional breeze, it smelled even worse on the second level. Yet his nose acclimatized and he ceased to smell anything at all, or maybe it just died. There was also a light Fog here. It had a pleasant taste to counterbalance the horrible smell of sewage.
“Be careful. Here there be monsters.”
Eric unslung his staff. “Have you been down here before?”
“A few times. Missions, training, . . . dares . . .you know.”
There was no stone walkway here. The two mercenaries trudged through ankle deep sewage beside the much deeper river. Eric grimaced with every squishy step. One time he slipped and fell on his back. I'll never get these stains out . . . or the smell for that matter. However, he had bigger concerns.
Rising from the muck were five foot globs of sewage clustered around a glowing rock; emils. From his mentor's lecture, Eric knew the rock was their heart. He also knew they didn't like fire.
“Crimson fire, grant my desire! Fireball!” He hurled the flaming sphere at the cluster of slime. Fear of the dangerous is instinctual so he wasn't surprised when they scatted, and in fact, he already had a second fireball soaring. It struck slime and melted it in the heat of his magic. Before it could reconstitute he dashed forward and smashed the stone with the butt of his staff.
One down . . . a lot to go.
Culmus swung and his blade rebounded off their jelly hides. “Time for my ace!”
He touched a rune at the hilt and it flared into life. Red light flowed in patterns to the tip and coated the blade in heat and light. The emils couldn't escape the sword's great length. Culmus cut thro
ugh them like a hot knife through slime, stone core, and all.
Once again, Eric cursed his staff's fire issues. Culmus' method was far more effective than his chant-shoot-crush method. He couldn't kill them fast enough and for that, he was surrounded. An arm of sewage beat him from every angle. One bit his arm and its saliva burn though his sleeve.
Eric! Remember my lecture on—
Eric pointed his staff at the ground. “A lift would be a gift! Wind Jump!” A gust of air pushed him up and over the emil ring while scattering them. Landing, he slipped again. The emil that bit him reached his bare skin. He screamed and pounded it with another fireball. Then he put out the flames on his vest with a waterball.
The remaining emils were regrouping. He jumped to his feet, braced himself and shouted, “Not so tame, wall of flame! Flame Wave!” Fire streamed from his open palms and reduced them to sizzling goo. He himself was knocked off his feet by the recoil. He jumped up again and smashed the stone cores as quickly as he could.
Exhausted, he fell forward on his staff. Flame Wave required a stream of mana and enough willpower to instantly turn it into fire. It was simple in theory, but draining in practice.
When we get back, we are working on your reserves.
I just hope I don't have to do that again.
“Are you okay, Eric?” Culmus asked. He was finished with his share of emils and was now cleaning his sword with a towel big enough for a human.
“Yeah . . . I'm . . .all right.” He sat down and pulled a water bottle out of his pack.
“Put that away. It won't do you any good.” Culmus reached into his own pack and threw Eric a bottle of glowing green liquid.
“Mana Juice!” He took a big gulp and instantly felt his strength returning. The liquid energy rejuvenated everything it touched. Pure power; he wanted to drink it all!
“Not too much. That stuff's expensive.”
Reluctantly, Eric screwed the lid back on and put the bottle in his pack.
“First a dagger and now this? I don't want you to bankrupt yourself on my account.”
“If we save Kasile, it will be worth it.”
The sewer was clearly the monster's domain. Their markings and droppings were everywhere. Emils and other creatures attacked every step of the way to the third floor. Culmus breathed through them while Eric struggled. When they finally crossed the level and reached the ladder, it creaked with every step. If he fell here, he could die. He was about to meet someone that did.
A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) Page 29