by Chloe Hodge
King Grayden held up a hand. “I have said my piece. This meeting, Wezlan Shadowbreaker, is over.”
The wizard searched the faces of every man in the room. Not one showed the slightest hint of concern. The King’s snakes had reared their heads. No help would come from this city. If the creatures attacked, then it was up to Lady Nirandia’s elves.
Wezlan offered an exaggerated bow, whirled on his feet and stalked out the chamber exit.
Fools. A time will come when the darkness shows his face again. Let’s hope it’s not too late.
Friend or Foe
Wezlan slammed his ale down on the table with a resounding thump, froth bubbling on his beard as he gulped down a large sip. “Well I’ll be,” he uttered in amazement, “you found the seer and a rare talisman without the help of myself or the eye the Lady gave us.”
He shook his head in disbelief and smiled at his companion. “It seems you’ve had a much more productive day than I have. I sought a council with the King on matters of late, but as the Lady Nirandia said, his mind is closed to any action and even the words of a wizard are, it would seem, of little worth.”
“He will not investigate further on reports made from the east?”
Wezlan’s face grew dark and he frowned. “The King is still young. He has much to learn and his royal advisors are a rabble of power-hungry fiends. I fear he does not realise how much control they have over the people and the crown’s armies.” He sighed. “King Grayden will see the truth in time. For now, the other three races are on their own.”
He raised a bushy eyebrow at Ashalea. “Now, you say someone was following you today?”
Ashalea nodded, her fine features grim. “Dressed in black and very agile. I was running at full pace.”
Wezlan stroked his beard, considering. “I believe it must be someone from the Onyxonites. It occurred right after you found the necklace, no? If it was the darkness, you would not have escaped.”
“Hey!” Ashalea said.
Wezlan took another sip and rumbled a small belch into his sleeve. “So, my guess is that this stranger was hunting you down for questioning. I shouldn’t think they would want to hurt a potential member of their order but all the same, keep your eyes and ears open. We must return to the seer and dusk is approaching.”
They finished up their meals and made ready to leave once more; both equipping their weapons in full and Ashalea tucking the necklace under her tunic. The Magicka inside felt like it hummed against her chest, which was oddly comforting to the elf.
As they closed the door to an already bustling tavern, the streets welcomed them with a rosy glow. Eventually the sun tucked himself in to sleep and the moon waved his brother goodnight, shining white light upon the city.
Ashalea and Wezlan padded along the stones like cats stalking mice. Quick, quiet and eager to reach their goal, they were weary of unwanted attention and kept their wits about them as they made way towards the wharfs. The streets were all but empty now, as man, elf and dwarf had hurried home to food or family.
Ashalea found the alley she had blocked just earlier that day, the entrance now open and uninviting in the darkness. Wezlan stamped his staff into the ground and a familiar jade glow illuminated the way.
He cocked Ashalea a mischievous grin. “Ladies first.”
She rolled her eyes but took the lead, her elvish eyes piercing the shadows with ease. When they reached the rune above the secret door, Ashalea expected they would knock and wait for an invitation. What they found suggested something very different. The doorway hung ajar, and bloody fingerprints stained both sides of the doorway. Alarmed, the duo glanced at each and nodded, prepared for anything that lay on the other side.
“Wait,” Ashalea whispered and lifted her hand.
She searched the shadows and sniffed at the air. A familiar scent wafted on a light breeze. They were not alone. In a split second she turned with a bow in steady hands and unleashed feathered arrow, where it took flight towards a figure watching from above.
The black clad stalker. They responded with a flurry of movement, slashing a scimitar that blocked the arrow’s path. Ashalea loosed several more, but the assailant fled along the rooftop and darted onto the alley floor with the ease of a cat. They sidestepped and vaulted as arrow after arrow flew, and still only one grazed a shoulder. They didn’t even react.
If she wasn’t defending herself and Wezlan, Ashalea might have admired the techniques and acrobatics displayed by the stranger. Instead she swore under her breath; her shots never missed.
Too close for comfort, Ashalea dropped her bow and pulled the scimitar from her waist, confident despite her lack of training in swordsmanship. The pair were about to come to blows when the assailant leapt in the air with all strength behind their sword. If it met with Ashalea’s flesh she knew it would cleave her in half.
Jade light radiated in a burst of energy, and Wezlan’s voice roared through the air. “Enough!” His Magicka blasted from the staff and halted the attacker mid-leap, leaving them suspended and helpless in a jade green globe.
“There’s no use struggling, my Magicka is too strong for you,” he said, pointing his staff at the assailant’s throat.
Nudging it around the hooded mask, he slipped it under the material, removing it to reveal the face of a beautiful young woman. Her olive skin shone in the eerie green glow. Her black hair unravelled to her shoulders and almond-shaped eyes that shone a brilliant golden-brown burned as she wriggled this way and that.
“Now tell me, Onyxyonite, what do you want?” Wezlan demanded.
The woman struggled more before relenting. Exasperated, she steadied her breaths and continued to glare. Ashalea could almost see the woman’s mind running through escape scenarios, her eyes darting, drinking in the situation. Wezlan had told her about the Onyxonites some time ago as they had pored over a book in his paper maze of a library. As an Onyxonite, her training meant she could endure extreme pain and conserve her energy. From what Wezlan had told her earlier this day, Ashalea knew they were unlikely to glean information. Onyxonites were formidable… and stubborn.
We could be here a while.
To Wezlan and Ashalea’s surprise, she broke the silence.
“I was tailing her because I saw her purchase the necklace in the marketplace. I was planning on retrieving it for the order, but she beat me to it, and I was following her to get some answers and because…” she trailed off.
Wezlan poked her with his staff and she glared wildly. “Because I’m also looking for someone of high importance.” She nodded towards the door. “Apparently so are you.”
Unsatisfied, Wezlan left her in the globe for a moment while he turned away to think. Ashalea stepped up to the woman, keeping a safe distance despite the invisible restraints binding her.
“Why not approach me in the marketplace instead?”
“Assumptions get you killed. I decided to bide my time and study your movements, but I was watching you one moment with the woman, and the next she was gone.” She puffed a stray hair from her face. “Then you bought the necklace, and it seemed like too much of a coincidence. I was going to follow you from a distance for a while, but you caught on and instead of facing me you ran away,” she huffed.
“So, you just wanted to talk? Funny way of showing it,” Ashalea picked up her scimitar and waved it in front of her nose.
The girl shrugged. “You attacked first.” She looked at Ashalea’s chest, where the necklace hummed underneath her tunic. “These necklaces are talismans for our people. The Magicka in them helps identify the next members of our order. They are usually gifted, not bought,” she emphasised the latter with a distasteful glare.
Ashalea glanced at Wezlan who was watching the woman intently. He stepped forward and poked her again, this time a little more roughly.
“Hey!” The woman uttered indignantly. “I just told you everything.”
“Onyxonites don’t offer information without a price. Why were you seeking the seer?”
He demanded.
“My brother, he has been missing for some time. He was sent on a scouting mission to Deyvall after news cropped up of those things in the marshlands.” She shivered; the first real weakness she’d shown. “He was supposed to send news from Telridge but it has been months and there’s still no word.”
Her face dropped, and her expression turned to worry. “I was hoping the seer could tell me where he is. Or if he’s even alive,” she added.
Wezlan gazed into her eyes, and she stared right back. With a small grumble and a few whispered words, the globe disappeared, and she dropped to her feet. He raised his staff in warning, but otherwise watched her cautiously.
“Thanks,” she muttered, throwing a disgruntled look his way. “My name is Shara Silvaren of the Onyxonites Order, daughter of Lord Harvar Silvaren of Shadowvale.” She held an air of authority as she identified herself, though it was soon lost when she sniffed and shrugged, “and who are you?”
“Introductions will have to wait,” Wezlan said as he pointed towards the door. “After the commotion we’ve just made I doubt there’s anyone still home, but weapons ready.”
Ashalea and Wezlan crept to the door, and with a nod, they both swivelled inside with weapons held high. Empty. The signs of a struggle lay evident in broken crockery, lanterns and overturned chairs; the room was a mess.
“She put up a fair fight,” Ashalea mumbled, feeling her heart sink.
“Whatever happened, she is still alive. The blood is limited to the door and may not be hers. Someone forced her to leave against her will,” Wezlan said gravely. “Search the house.”
All three of them were silent as they pored over the room for clues, and the only hint found was three sets of dirty footprints tracked through the floor.
Shara knelt, examining the prints. “Three men were here, and by the size of their boots and weight of the imprints, they were brawny.”
She lifted some caked dirt, took a whiff and tasted. The soil was a deep brown and still held the earthy, fresh smell, despite the fishy stench that seemed to be embedded in the city grounds near the wharfs.
“All this tells us is that they travelled here from outside the city, and recently. There is no way to know if they’re still here, or if they made it out the gates before dusk. Given they only arrived today, I would say the latter.”
“It is just a theory, but I think you’re right. I wonder…” Wezlan paused. “It’s a long shot but the seer may have left a blood blot.”
The two women looked at each confused. “A what?” they echoed in unison.
“It’s a spell that identifies location based on blood trails. All it requires is a smear of the blood and a map, and it will pinpoint the whereabouts of its owner.”
Shara’s hands burrowed within her pockets and out popped a crumpled map of Everosia. Ashalea raised her brows. “Mapmaker too now?”
“What?” The Onyxonite said. “I might be an assassin, but I still need to know where I’m going,” she lifted her chin.
Wezlan took his sword and scraped some dried blood onto the blade. After scattering the resins onto the map, he muttered a few incantations, and the blood joined, morphing into its liquid form once more. After he finished the spell, it trailed along the map and settled in a copse of trees just south of the village of Denton.
“That’s not far from here,” Shara said excitedly. “We could catch them unawares and rescue the seer!”
“While I usually err on the side of caution, I agree. However, there is the issue of getting out the gates. The city watch close them overnight, except for those on King’s business,” Wezlan responded.
“Leave that to me. Now will you tell me who I’m travelling with?” Shara demanded.
Ashalea looked at Wezlan and he gave her a slight nod.
“I am Wezlan Shadowbreaker, last wizard of the Divine Six, Guardian of the Grove and friend to the four races of Everosia.”
Shara’s eyes widened as the fictional character spoken of in bedtime stories was in fact, alive and breathing, and standing in front of her. They widened even further still when Ashalea took off her hood. The elf’s silver hair spilled out in soft waves, her pointy ears poking out from beneath. A determined look filled green eyes.
“And I am Ashalea Kindaris. Orphaned from murdered parents, scarred from darkness, and vengeful she-elf.” She stepped outside into the moonlight and turned to face her companions.
“And we have a seer to seek.”
Spirited Away
The quick-fingered children Ashalea and Wezlan had been so careful to avoid during their time in Maynesgate were now leading their company into the underground sewers beneath the city.
With a sly smile on her face, Shara beckoned a few of them over, had words in private and even sealed a deal with an odd handshake. A few coins were flicked their way and before long a group of children had gathered like pack rats, leaving the light of night behind.
Their guidance through the underworld to gangster hideaways and black markets was a mutual arrangement Shara had found beneficial more than a few times on her missions to Maynesgate.
The adults stooped a little as they crept beneath the world above, while the children grinned devilishly, planning what to spend their new earnings on. The smell of fish was entirely gone now, replaced instead with, well, you know what.
The tunnels formed a maze under the city, twisting this way and that, the light flickering eerily through the odd grate in the upper streets. If not for the children, Ashalea and Wezlan weren’t sure they would ever have found the exit. Yet sure enough, the chosen tunnel led right outside the city walls, far enough away from the guards so they wouldn’t be seen and hidden well enough from trespassers by foliage and debris. The children bared their teeth gleefully, uttered a few resounding hoots and then disappeared once more into the depths.
Ashalea and Wezlan glanced at each other, amused by the strange behaviour.
Shara just shrugged, “they have no parents and no home. I’m sure the sewers and the smell would drive anyone mad.”
Before leaving the city, Wezlan had woken a disgruntled stable boy and informed him to release their horses at dawn. After scratching his head in disbelief, the boy had agreed to do as commanded, though a little sourly at the thought of such fine horses running free. Wezlan and Ashalea knew better. Lerian and Kaylin would return as soon as Wezlan established a connection with their minds. His Magicka was strong enough to do it from a distance, though it would take some toll on his energy.
The innkeeper was paid handsomely upon their leaving, and in his delight almost crushed Wezlan’s old bones in a big bear hug. To Ashalea he had offered a polite bow, a gentle kiss on the hand and a mischievous wink with sparkling blue eye.
Their time in Maynesgate was already behind them, and onwards they looked to save the seer as quick as can be. They trekked through the darkness, Ashalea’s keen eyes leading the way for Wezlan, for he had removed the light from his staff to be discreet. Shara needed no help, well accustomed to the shadows from the order’s night-time escapades.
Both Ashalea and Wezlan had agreed bloodshed was best avoided, so it was decided they would approach the encampment with caution and stealth. Shara would survey the area for a head count and assess the seer’s situation.
As they considered their options, the group cut across country, avoiding the road that curved round to the Aquafarian Province. Before long, they heard a loud snap and raised weapons quickly in defence. Nothing stirred in the darkness. Looking very baffled, the three of them searched fruitlessly in the dark.
“Oh!” Wezlan exclaimed suddenly.
He lifted the charm around his neck. The eye gifted to him by Lady Nirandia had clicked, blinking shut and then open again, and was now humming softly. They were close. Aware of time ticking by, they sprinted towards the forest, Wezlan lagging as he huffed heavily on his staff.
“Old men are not meant for such things,” he wheezed under his breath. “But nor are the pleasures
of a lazy life meant for wizards.” He gulped in air and ran after his comrades.
Ashalea called a halt just ahead and pointed to the ground. The tracks of a large cart could be seen heading towards the undergrowth.
“They must have camped for the night. There’s no other reason why they would slow their pace through the forest when the Old Road would be clear. Besides, that cart wouldn’t make it through the trees further in.”
Shara pulled up beside her and studied the wheel indents left through flattened grass. “Best be quiet from here on. I doubt they will have ventured too far into the forest.”
She was right. Shortly after they entered the trees, an orange glow could be seen flickering in a clearing not forty feet from where they were standing. By now, Wezlan’s charm was humming insistently, promising the seer’s presence nearby.
Shara put a finger to her lips and motioned for Ashalea and Wezlan to stay put. Creeping along the ground like a panther stalking prey, she edged her way behind a bush and peered out from behind green leaves at the clearing. She counted six heads, all men, scattered lazily around the fire, with the scrawniest of the group keeping a lax lookout for trouble. They looked like mercenaries, brawny, rough around the edges and a few battle scars to boot.
Their weapons and armour bore no crests and their gear was worn from wear and tear. In a cage mounted atop a cart, the seer’s body sat crumpled in a corner, her head bloody from being knocked out earlier that day. Her hands were bound with a rope and a gag was stuffed in her mouth, no doubt to prevent any spells. She looked feverish, her head lolling from side to side as she dreamed fitfully. Further investigation revealed that the cage was chained with a padlock. Shara cursed under her breath.
Returning to the group, she recited what she had seen, and another curse escaped Wezlan’s lips.
“Unfortunate luck, but with your skill,” he nodded at the girls, “we can still do this quietly.” He turned to Ashalea. “Consider this some training. I want you to retrieve the key and return the seer, without Magicka, and without being seen. I don’t want you to drain your energy from using your powers unless absolutely necessary.”