“My father made that?” Luke asks in disbelief. “I’ve never seen him make anything that could pass for dwarven smithing. I guess you know more about him than I do. Dad never talked about what he did before he met my mom. He told me that he had been a blacksmith since the age of thirty and he’s well over one hundred by now. My grandfather mentioned that my dad was an adventurer like I want to be, but he promised not to tell me anything more than that. This is going to sound like a strange request, Mister Ironcaster. Could you tell me what my father was like before he settled down?”
Luke eyes the warhammer while he waits, eventually looking at Duggan with a begging smile. The dwarf nods and hands Luke the glowing weapon. As soon as it leaves Duggan’s hand, the weapon falls to the floor, yanking Luke to his knees. The warhammer narrowly avoids crushing the half-elf’s foot as it magically sticks to the floor. Luke pulls and tugs at the weapon, but it refuses to budge. Finally, he stops trying and watches Duggan lift the warhammer onto his shoulder with ease.
“Part of the magic of this weapon is that only I may wield it. I get a kick out of others trying though,” Duggan states with a satisfied smile and deep laugh that shakes his gray beard. “As for your request, I don’t think I should tell you much about your father. It wouldn’t be proper friendship for me to go behind his back and tell his secrets. All I can tell you are the basics that you could hear in local taverns. This is information that you would discover if you had the sense to ask around, so you might as well hear it from a family friend. Ilan was part of Selenia’s mercenary group along with me, Kevin, Daniel Skyblade for a time, and a few others who, unfortunately, are no longer with us. He was about fifty at that time and was looking for a way to learn more about smithwork. It was priceless to see Selenia fume every time your old man would study the weapons of our enemies and waste her time. To be fair to her, sometimes he would do it before they were all dead. Our group lasted for about twenty years before . . . let’s just say things went sour. None of us like to talk about it, especially Ilan and Selenia. In the end, your father met your mother and his feelings for your mother caused him to part ways with us. Selenia was ready to knock him out and drag him with us if Kevin hadn’t stepped in on Ilan’s behalf.”
“He was a great warrior,” Luke whispers with a small chuckle.
“He was a decent warrior. Ilan was only great in two things,” Duggan somberly says, pausing to refill his mug and drink again. “Smithwork and friendship. He would do anything to make a person feel at ease or cheer them up. If you wanted advice then you went to Ilan. He kept his heart open, which is why our biggest failure hit him harder than the rest of us. I think that’s enough, kid. Finish your ale and be on your way.”
Luke chugs down his mug of ale, feeling a rush of dizziness envelope his head. Duggan laughs as he goes to the altar to begin his daily prayers. He doesn’t notice when Luke leaves the hidden room and cautiously returns to the workshop. A wall of hot air meets Luke as he slips out of the hidden door. A gust of cool air hits his back when the door slams shut behind him. The forest tracker calmly goes to his project, gently taking the twisted metal it in his hands. The cool metal has turned black with white flakes, which stick to Luke’s skin. He looks the piece over before tossing it back on the shelf.
“There is no way I’m ever going to be as good as Duggan or my father when it comes to smithwork,” Luke mutters to himself. “I don’t see why I even accepted this class since it has nothing to do with my mission. I could have changed it to some other type of trade class or maybe Nimby’s carpentry class. This is a total waste of time.”
*****
“I do not think this is as simple as you make it sound, Nimby,” Aedyn argues, his pointy ears twitching nervously. “Finding an assassin is not like picking someone’s pocket or taking apples off food trays. An assassin is dangerous and trained to hide in plain sight. I do not even think we should be discussing it so openly like this. People can hear us if they wanted to, especially any elves who happen to wonder why the three of us are sitting around and whispering. We look suspicious.”
The courtyard is abandoned while most of the students are at the cafeteria for lunch and the teachers are preparing for afternoon classes. The priest picks at the warm food Nimby had previously taken for the trio before stopping them from going into the cafeteria. Nimby sounded very cautious as he convinced them to follow him under the pretense of needing help with a carpentry project. Aedyn was surprised how easily and naturally the halfling lied. For a few, brief minutes, he believed that Nimby was not the troublemaking thief that Aedyn originally thought he was.
Then, the halfling opened his mouth and spouted insanity about hunting down assassins in the academy, leaving Aedyn and Nimby staring each other down. Trying to remain calm, the priest grips his staff until his knuckles turn white. The thief stands on the fountain edge with a look of stubborn determination plastered upon his face. Fritz ignores both of them as he grooms Bessaria and finishes his lunch.
“Come on, Aedyn. We have to do something since watching the students is getting us nowhere. The three of us have watched these students since they arrived at the academy, so the heir has been under our nose this whole time. If we haven’t noticed a suspicious student by now then we aren’t going to notice simply because we’ve been told,” Nimby explains, absentmindedly juggling some apples. “Then, there is the more obvious problem. Luke doesn’t know who he is protecting or who he is protecting this person from. Even if he finds the heir, it will be another, more difficult, hunt to uncover the assassin before the attack. If this assassin is any good then Luke finding the heir first will only make him a blind target. All I am suggesting is that we might be more help if we concentrated on the assassin. We know the academy better than Luke, so it should be easy for us to find the person who doesn’t belong here.”
Nimby lets the apples fall into the water and begins doing cartwheels while Aedyn quietly thinks over the halfling’s argument. Neither of them notices Fritz muttering something under his breath. A fearsome, gray-skinned orc with a rusty broadsword suddenly appears in front of Nimby. The halfling trips and tumbles into the water, making a large splash before the illusion vanishes.
“Back up to three,” Fritz whispers with a grin. The gnome pats Bessaria on the head before going to help Nimby out of the water. “Now, I have to agree with Aedyn on this. You might be putting yourself and this mysterious heir in more danger than you realize, my hyperactive friend. What if this assassin is something worse than what you just saw? It could be your death, which would be very, very, incredibly, horribly inconvenient for you.”
Nimby is about to say something when Fritz starts stroking his beard and continues, “Of course, this heir might be one of the women. She might have a reward for her saviors. A very big reward of the physical kind. Tall women really get my heart racing. Legs that go far beyond two feet long are just amazing creations that I commend the gods for making. That’s it, Nimby! You’ve talked me into it. I’ll help you find the assassin and claim my prize.”
“What!?” Aedyn exclaims as his allies shake hands. “He did not talk you into anything! You talked yourself into it, you crazy gnome! In the hopes of sanity prevailing here, I have to ask one final question. Do you two realize the amount of trouble you will get in by harassing people who you think are assassins?”
“You don’t have to join us if you don’t want to. We know you have your observation reports to do,” Nimby casually states. “Besides, this kind of mission is not something you would be good at. Loud priests are a problem when you need to use stealth.”
“Then we agree on one thing,” Aedyn says, lifting his staff over his shoulder and turning to walk away. “This mission, as you call it, is not meant for a priest. Although I find it hard to believe that stealth will be a priority with you two involved. I can feel the gods lining up to watch this debacle. Good day to both of you. I will be around when you have regained your sanity and find a way out of whatever trouble you get into. I migh
t even be willing to heal your inevitable injuries.”
“Don’t worry about the boy. He can do whatever he wants,” Fritz declares, his mind drifting back to thoughts of women. “We have a curvaceous damsel to rescue and rewards to reap. Course, we have no idea what we’re looking for. I think this is more your thing than mine. After all, you spend more time with the other teachers than I do. We got two new one’s recently, didn’t we?”
Nimby is munching on some crackers when one of Clarence’s sleek hunting dogs wanders over. The curious dog sniffs at Nimby’s pockets until it picks up the scent of something interesting and yelps loudly. The halfling pulls out some dried meat and throws it to the begging animal. The dog slowly chews on it before curling up at the base of the fountain. Bessaria is cautiously eyeing the slender dog, finally running off toward the stables before Fritz can grab her reins.
“I haven’t seen the old girl run like that since we came across a goblin scouting party eating mutton. Guess she isn’t a fan of watching the dog eat what could have been related to her. Then again, with trail rations, that meat could have been related to you or me,” Fritz says jokingly, watching the sheep disappear into the open stable doors. “So, any ideas on who we should investigate?”
“Well, Daniel Skyblade is a known friend of Selenia. He is clear unless someone is disguised as him, but then Selenia would have found him out. They’ve been talking since he arrived and she hasn’t been the slightest bit suspicious of him,” Nimby explains, thoughtfully staring at the sky. “My money would be on the other newcomer. You know, that female calico whose been lounging around the teacher’s dorm. She is the new knife fighting teacher, which is a very assassin-like skill. That is all I know about her though. She doesn’t talk much and, most importantly, she tends to disappear whenever Selenia is around. That just screams suspicious behavior, doesn’t it? I think her name is Theresa.”
“Lovely Theresa,” Fritz gushes while doing a clumsy, one-footed spin. “Such a beautiful name and I’m betting she has the body to go along with it. It would be such a pleasure to meet this mysterious, misunderstood beauty. I will prove to you that she is not the assassin. I will protect her name and reputation to the bitter end.”
“Whose side are you on?” Nimby groans, reaching down to pet the panting dog at his feet. “She might be the assassin. Also, I don’t think she would be interested in you. She comes off as rather cold-hearted and anti-social.”
Fritz glares at Nimby and scoffs, “My dear friend! How can you say that about the woman I adore? Even if she is a heartless, blood hungry assassin then it makes no difference to me. Nobody refuses a little gnome action when it stares them in the face, my boy.”
Nimby falls back into the fountain when he smacks himself in the forehead. He stands in the water laughing until he catches his breath. “Face? Don’t you mean the kneecap? Out of respect, I didn’t laugh when you started that romantic mush. Then, you had to end it with that terrible tavern pick-up line. Now, let’s have some real fun doing some investigating and snooping.”
“Let me be serious here for a minute or two,” Fritz states, curiosity filling his crimson eyes. “Why do you want to go assassin hunting when this is Luke’s mission? This sounds very uncharacteristic of you. I mean, you never struck me as the type to stick your neck out for anyone or use so much blind faith. For all we really know, Luke is the assassin and we are helping him find his prey. I might be going along with this mission, but I have considered that scenario.”
“You know he isn’t the assassin,” Nimby snaps.
“I don’t believe that he is the assassin,” Fritz claims, carefully choosing his words. “Yet, I do not know that for an undisputed fact. Work with illusions for most of your life and you will find that not everything should be taken at face value. In the end, that is just my opinion and possibly Aedyn’s too.” Fritz waves his hands as if to push the thoughts from the air. “Nimby, I’m worried about you. This is a very dangerous game and I am wondering why you are being so helpful to a stranger. Not that I’m entirely complaining since I get to check out one of the new curves of the academy.”
Nimby laughs while he clambers out of the fountain and wrings the water from his shirt onto the grass. “We’ve gone over this already. All of this feels right to me, but I feel like I’m not doing my part. You and Aedyn have your wisdom and magic. Luke has his swords and courage. I want to do something more than gathering information and being a listening ear. This is a partnership, so I plan on showing that I can carry my own weight. Luke can’t do everything by himself . . . especially if he tries to spend the entire reward that he will be getting. I am only doing my part, so I can claim my share. Does that sound more like me?”
“Yes, but I’m sure you’re lying. You are a thief, after all,” the gnome points out with a grin.
They each give the slender hunting dog one more pat on the head before they leave for the teacher’s dormitory. Within minutes of their departure, the dog starts frantically howling at the fountain. The students leaving the cafeteria look to see that the fountain’s statue is crying thick tears of light. A large crowd forms around the fountain, the students watching and pointing as the crying statue fills the fountain with glowing water.
“Nobody touch that water!” Aedyn shouts, gently pushing his way to the front of the crowd. “This can be a sign from a god or a trick caused by something else. Everyone please return to your classes and allow me to handle the situation.” The students mutter under their breath, but they do what Aedyn says. A single figure remains at the fountain, standing behind Aedyn with a curious look on his face.
“I haven’t seen anything like this for about four years,” Daniel Skyblade claims, letting out a low whistle of awe. “That’s a common omen from Durag, but you would know better than me. I never understood why the sun god uses water as omens.”
“You are well-versed, Lord Skyblade. They are called Durag’s Tears,” Aedyn states with a friendly smirk. “Water and sun have an intimate relationship, but that is not important here. I must admit that I am surprised someone of your standing has taken the time to learn about omens. I assumed you would be happy with women and dances and politics instead of the workings of the gods.”
Daniel laughs and roughly slaps Aedyn on the back. “I owe my luck to Cessia and my prowess to Ram. Since you seem to be in good cheer, I assume that this is not a foretelling of horrible events.”
“It is hard to say,” Aedyn admits, letting out a sigh and running his hand through his black hair. “Usually the tears appear to warn a sun priest that extreme danger is nearby. It is not necessarily a threat. So, something unnatural is in the area, but I cannot tell if we have to worry about it. Unfortunately, the gods are vague and work in mystery. They force us to think for ourselves, which helps us become stronger in both mind and spirit. It also causes large bouts of confusion.”
“I see,” Daniel says with a piercing gaze that makes Aedyn uncomfortable. “Well, I hope you can figure this mystery out. I am going to see if Duggan has any of his family’s home-brewed ale stashed on the grounds. Good luck, young priest.” The nobleman leaves Aedyn to watch the fountain until the water returns to its normal state.
Aedyn remains at the fountain where the hunting dog licks at his dangling hands, trying to get his attention. Eventually, the dog gets bored and wanders back to the stables. The priest dips his cupped hand into the water, but nothing out of the ordinary happens. Taking a deep breath, Aedyn clears his mind of his pointless guesses and leaves for his room. The only thought in his head is the one that he hid from Daniel Skyblade and would keep hidden until he is sure that he is right. He knows someone at the academy is going to die.
*****
Theresa Marley can feel the hair on the back of her neck rise when she hears somebody knocking on her door. Out of habit, she silently pulls a dagger out from under the nearby table, slipping it into a leg sheath. For an instant, she considers putting her freshly oiled leather armor over her white, short-sleeved
shirt. The young calico relaxes slightly once she notices that the insistent knocking is very low on the door. After another minute of waiting, she opens the door to find Fritz and Nimby in the hallway. Nimby has his lock picks out and is holding them an inch away from where the door used to be. He looks up with a grin and the picks swiftly disappear into his sleeves. Fritz is patiently standing across the hallway; casually reading a small, battered notebook that occasionally drips oil onto the floor. Theresa is about to tell them to leave when Nimby slips by her. In contrast to the rude halfling, Fritz gives her a silent bow of apology and lets her lead him into the room. Once he is done admiring Theresa’s swishing tail, Fritz notices that Kellia is sitting in a chair with a cup of steaming tea.
“Well, what is going on here?” Fritz asks as he closes the door.
“Kellia came to talk to me about transferring into my knife fighting class,” Theresa explains, taking a seat next to Kellia. “She isn’t doing well in siege weapon history, so she wants to transfer before it is too late in the semester. I believe you teach that class, Mr. Warrenberg. In fact, siege weapons are one of your specialties if the stories about your talents are true.”
Beginning of a Hero (Legends of Windemere) Page 19