Spellscribed Tales: First Refrain

by Kristopher Cruz

  Talen's room had been mostly emptied of his personal effects. They had been thrown over the wall into the Berserker's Refuge when he had been sent there. Joven doubted it really mattered, but it was good to have the room cleared out.

  Joven had spent most of his time traveling to different towns and villages in the barbarian lands; training under some, fighting others, and learning everything he could. He had devoted the entire last eight years to becoming as skilled and capable as possible in order to protect his soon to be charge. Every couple of months, he would make the trek back to Balator and check to see if the new Spengur had been discovered yet.

  It had been quite difficult to locate one, it turned out. Most of the old Spengur were dead or out of reach; and the new mages in Ironsoul were either unwilling to come work this far north, or they were deathly afraid of the barbarians there, usually both.

  This time, Joven had been hailed as he entered the city and instructed to ride to the castle straight away. It had to be for this reason, it had been years and the Spengur was becoming more desperately needed as the eclipse drew closer.

  He was met at the castle gates by his brother. Balen stood in his finely decorated armor, smiling as Joven approached. Leona had been getting good at embellishing armor, it seemed.

  "Ah, Joven!" Balen called out. "Great timing, as ever. The king has a guest today!"

  "Oh?" Joven replied, chuckling. "Does that mean I have to come back later?"

  Balen shook his head. "No." he said simply. "Go inside, you'll see."

  Joven entered the castle and passed unhindered through the foyer. In the throne room, he could hear a conversation at the far end as a wild haired old man in a somewhat worn black robe conversed with King Kalenden.

  "Oooh..." the man muttered. "This place has changed since I was last here. It's gotten squirmy, yes, squirmy since the last time I stood by the throne."

  Kalenden looked like he was struggling to keep his composure in the face of a constantly annoying guest. "Squirmy?" he asked. "The only thing different from the last time you were here are the columns."

  The man glanced at the columns flanking down the sides of the throne room. "Ah." he declared. "Yes, yes. There are many more of them with scribbling on them! True!" he considered. "But that's not it. Your throne room... it's itchy!"

  "Perhaps we can have this conversation elsewhere?" Kalenden asked, visibly trying to stay calm.

  "No!" The stranger cried. "Here's fine. Just fine. Oh look, a guest!" the man turned to face Joven. Joven had never seen the king look so relieved.

  "Joven!" Kalenden exclaimed. "I want you to meet Kaelob."

  "Hullo!" Kaelob said, waving. His eyes were open wide and his pupils dilated. If he wasn't on some kind of drug, he definitely seemed mentally off-kilter.

  "Uh..." Joven responded. "Hi?"

  "Oh, I like him." Kaelob said, turning to Kalenden. "He's the guardian? They've gotten bigger since the last time."

  "The last time?" Joven asked.

  The man extended a finger up. "Yes!" he cried. "I was here not three hundred years ago, when I was but a young Spengur."

  Joven raised an eyebrow.

  "Ah, the adventures I had. The adventures! The women! The wine! The badgers!" the mad man continued. "No wait, not the badgers." he shuddered as if captured in a bad memory.

  "Again." Joven said. "Uhh...?"

  Kaelob narrowed his eyes at the man. "Are you quite all right?" he asked. "You seem to have been stricken dumb. I think I have a cure for that somewhere..."

  "You're going to be the Spengur?" Joven asked, incredulous.

  Kaelob paused, searching the pockets of his robes. "What?" he asked, surprised. "Oh dear, no! I am much too old for that. Too old!" he exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "Why I'm... well, really, really old!"

  Joven blinked, confused. "You can't remember your age?"

  "I lost track after six hundred." Kaelob snapped. "Anyway, I got word that you were all looking for a new Spengur, and I think I have just the man for the job!"

  Kalenden's face brightened. "You do?" he asked. "Finally – I mean excellent. Where is he?"

  Kaelob's face scrunched up as he thought. "Well, there's just one thing." he said. "He's not quite done training yet."

  Kalenden rolled his eyes, leaning back on the throne as he sat down. "Of course. There's always something."

  Joven looked at his king. "I fear we won't be able to have a Spengur in time for the eclipse." he said.

  Kaelob whirled on him. "Oh the eclipse? That old thing?" he blew air through his lips. "That's not going to be for another two years and two months!"

  "What?" Kalenden and Joven both exclaimed at the same time.

  "Yes, two years, two months, and fourteen days to be precise." Kaelob rattled off. "I wrote it on my calendar. I've got that here somewhere too..."

  "Never mind the calendar." Kalenden interrupted. "You know exactly when the eclipse will happen?"

  "Of course!" Kaelob replied. We mages keep very careful track of celestial convergences!"

  "Will your man be ready before then?" Joven blurted.

  Kaelob turned to look at the bodyguard. "Well, I really do like you now. You've the right kind of mind for this game!" he said, his tone playful. "Yes, he will be ready by then. About a year and a half left of his training, if he keeps up his rate of study."

  Joven sighed in relief. "That's it, then." he said. "When and where do I go?"

  Kaelob dug into his sleeve and produced a small wooden carving of a pigeon. "Here, take this." he said, handing it over to Joven. Bewildered, Joven turned the carving over and around in his fingers as he looked it over. "That's a pretty good carved bird there." Joven said. "What is it for?"

  Kaelob reached out and touched the head of the wooden pigeon with a long slender finger. He said something in a language that Joven couldn't comprehend more than the basic syllables of, and a tiny red light glowed from under his fingertip.

  "There!" Kaelob stated grandly. "Now, when he's almost ready, that will give you the description and location where you will be meeting him. Don't worry, it's only magic when it turns on."

  Joven looked down at the red light as the mage withdrew his finger. A little rune of some sort glowed in tiny red lines on the head of the bird, as small as the nail on his pinky finger.

  "So, I just carry this around, and when it...turns on... it will tell me where to go?" Joven reasoned.

  "More specifically, when and whom to look for. I assume you know the way to Ironsoul? Yes?"

  "Yeah. I’ve been there once before."

  "Well then, great! Enter through the salt gate and you should have little difficulty. Don't worry about when the bird animates, it's quite polite."

  Joven looked down at the wooden figurine. "Uhh...." he stammered.

  "There he goes again." Kaelob said with a half smile. "Better get that looked at!"

  The mage walked away from the throne, kicking up his legs emphatically as he descended the short set of stairs.

  "Wait!" Kalenden called. "That's it? You are sure this new man is what I need?"

  Kaelob looked back. "Well," he replied. "I get the feeling that the new Spengur will be all that Balator needs, and much more."

  He smiled at the two of them, patted Joven on the shoulder, and started to walk away. "Toodles!" he said to one of the candelabra. He raised both hands, said a few words, and slashed into the air with the fingers of his right hand. A vacuous tear opened in the air before him, causing Joven and Kalenden to startle and lean back. Stars glittered in the black expanse as Kaelob walked through it, humming off tune. The tear sucked itself closed the moment he was completely within it, and the mage was gone.

  Joven looked over at Kalenden. "You don't suppose the new guy can do that, do you?" he asked.

  Kalenden slowly shook his head. "I hope to the gods that he can't." he said. "But now that that's been cleared up, I want you to rest for the next few months."

  "Sire?"

  "I don't want you
going off and getting yourself killed now that we have what I need in sight." Kalenden ordered. "Stay home, practice your forms, find yourself a woman, give lessons to kids, I don't care."

  "Find myself a woman?" Joven asked.

  "Whatever it is you like." Kalenden said. "I want you to be here until it's time to send you."

  "Oh." Joven nodded. "Yes, sire. I will stay within Balator until I receive the sign."

  Kalenden nodded. "Good." he said, gesturing. "Now go. I want to spend the rest of the day with my wife."

  Joven bowed. "Of course. Thank you." he said.

  Joven walked out of the throne room and paused before pushing the doors open. It was finally coming time, and he only had to wait a little longer.

  Whatever would he do with his time until then?

  Chapter 06: Now

  Endrance looked up from his notes. He had let Joven ramble on for hours, occasionally pausing to drink some water from his water skin as he told his tale. He had managed to get some work done on deciphering the ancient barbarian language, but he kept getting drawn into Joven's tale. It was when Joven's story came to an end that he finally got the breakthrough he needed.

  "Joven." Endrance said sympathetically. "I'm sorry about what happened to your father, and brother."

  Joven let out a pent up breath. "It's okay." he replied. "I've had time to get over it. My father died in battle and earned much honor."

  "And Talen?" Endrance asked.

  Joven shook his head. "I don't know. Nor do I care anymore. I don't want to talk about him again, all right?"

  Endrance nodded.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the air. Moments passed, and Joven cleared his throat.

  "So. Got it figured out?" He asked.

  Endrance shook his head. "Not yet." he replied.

  Joven's shoulders slumped. "Well, we still have a few days." he replied.

  "No, I have an idea, but I don't know where to look to get what I need." Endrance stated. "You see, your story got me thinking."

  "About?" Joven asked.

  "The throne room." Endrance said. "More specifically, the columns carved with the deeds of past kings."

  "Yeah?"

  Endrance tapped the dry quill on the desk. "Who do you suppose writes them?"

  Joven froze a moment, thinking. "You’re clever." he muttered. "The carvers can read and write!"

  "Yes!" Endrance exclaimed. "And the ancient ones from the beginning of the tradition wrote in the ancient script! It was something that I knew I had seen before, because they were on the first two pillars in the throne room!"

  "So, since they could read and write –" Joven said excitedly.

  "Then they had to teach it to each generation after!" Endrance declared, tucking an errant strand of hair behind his ear. "We can decipher the language with their materials!"

  Joven nodded. "Well, I don't know who or where they are, but I do know who would be able to locate them."

  "Anna?" Endrance asked.

  "Yep." Joven said with a smile. "Let's go ask."

  Endrance stood, straightening out his shirt. His neck twinged a little, but it was feeling much better after being given several hours of rest.

  "Hey Joven," Endrance said before his bodyguard could open the door to the room. "Why didn't you tell me you and Anna had history?"

  Joven shrugged. "We didn't really go anywhere with it after that day. It was a decade ago, and we never talked until you brought us all back together again."

  Endrance frowned. "Is that okay with you?"

  Joven smiled. "Well, it's not like we have a choice anymore. But yeah, that's fine with me." he concluded. "At the time, she was just a pretty face to flirt with. Now, she's the wife of the most important person in the history of my bloodline."

  Endrance grimaced. "Don't, ugh, I'm still not buying this 'wife' business."

  "It's tradition."

  "Are you sure it, like, didn't get twisted up getting passed on by word of mouth over the years?" the mage asked.

  Joven shrugged. "Doesn't matter anymore. That's what it is now."

  Endrance hung his head. "Truth." he said. "All right, I'm ready. Let's get going"

  Joven nodded. "We have a lot of work to do before this is over."

  They stepped out into the hall to gather the Draugnoa, hunt down the carvers, and finally decipher the seal over the tomb that housed what they needed for the eclipse.

  ~END~

  Devinia’s Story

  Chapter: 01

  In the darkness of the birthing chamber, three elves waited. Normally only lit by moonlight, it was a rare time when all three moons were new. Such an occurrence only happened every thirty years and lasted for three nights. It was considered a sacred time for the Sha’hdi. For this night, a single candle was lit beside the bed.

  The first of the elves was the expectant mother. Dark tan skin and raven black hair, her face was both regal and serene as she closed her eyes and pushed one more time. Her long dark hair was strewn across the cushions as she concentrated on the task at hand. The second, a physician, was a male Sha’hdi of small stature, but severe expression. He studied his patient with great interest, a glimmer of magic dancing in front of his eyes as his specially designed spells enabled him to know more about the pending delivery than any human doctor would.

  The third elf was husband to the first. Tall, strong shouldered and regal, he bore an almost noble appearance with hair a light blonde in contrast to the dark skin most Sha’hdi shared. His pointed ears were pierced with gold and silver cuffs, a sign of personal wealth. He wore fine black silk with golden trim. Though he bore a short blade in his sash at the small of his back, it was more as a precautionary measure than an expectant one.

  “Ashrava.” The male whispered in elven, taking her hand. Though elven pregnancies were long, they usually did not pain the mother much. However, for the last five days his wife had been in labor and he worried for her. “You have endured much.”

  She hardly acknowledged her husband’s statement. Though it had been paining her, she had been used to far worse in her years of civil service. To labor for five days was nothing compared to the torture and punishment her matron had put her through in training decades before. Though her husband was concerned, it was because his profession gave him little understanding of the pain his wife was accustomed to. It was simple, after all. He was simply a silk weaver of great skill. She was an assassin of the Nightsever house, one of the three most prestigious houses of assassins in Salthimere.

  Another contraction came, and the physician moved closer. “It is time.” He said with a nod. “I will begin.”

  Ashrava nodded, her eyes still closed. It had been the longest labor she’d ever experienced, and she was quite ready to be done with it.

  As the physician urged her to push, a new form melted out of the shadows. Dressed in tight fitting black leather, the female had no weapons in her hands as she approached the bed. Her husband tensed in surprise. The newcomer’s face was obscured by a cloth mask, but the cut of the leather completed by her skull and dagger buckles identified her as a fellow assassin.

  The assassin held a hand out to placate the male. “Hold, Prav. I am here on official business, but not that kind.” She said gently.

  Prav relaxed, but only slightly. The assassin turned to Ashrava and placed a small fold of paper on the table at the bedside. “When you’re finished here…” she said. “There is a job for you.”

  Instead of surprise, Ashrava nodded as if it were expected. She opened her eyes to look at her comrade. “Tell the matron it will be done.” She whispered.

  The assassin vanished, and Prav leaned in. “Ashrava, you have to work?” he asked.

  She grunted as a contraction hit her. When it passed, she shrugged. “I should have been done three days ago. It is not her fault that I was not able to produce the child when I said I would. She has taken contracts that need completion.”

  “Can’t she get someone else to do that? You�
��re going to be weak from the birthing.” He protested. In the weak candlelight, his azure eyes showed his concern.

  The physician spoke, his arms under the sheets. “I’ll give her some Aishgainte tonic.”

  Ashrava looked her husband in the eyes. “See? I’ll be able to do the job.”

  “What about the child?” Prav asked.

  Ashrava looked him in the eyes, her hardened expression made more severe by the pain of childbirth. “I expect you to take care of her.” She growled.

  Soon it was all over. The babe was wrapped in a blanket and placed into her arms. The girl was healthy, with a tuft of hair almost blonde in color on the top of her head. She fed the baby while the physician tended to her bleeding and mixed a restoring draught for her. She passed her sleeping daughter to Prav.

  “Her name?” he asked. Though he made almost all of the income for their household, Ashrava was the more ‘productive’ member and was titled as Patron. As the Patron of their house, Ashrava had the duty of naming the children of the house.

  Ashrava gulped down the drink. The life magic-infused recipe designed by Suo’hdi alchemists spread warmth through her limbs and body, washing away the aching pains and weariness. “We will call her Devinia.” She declared. “Now, I have to go.”

  She slipped from the bed and the physician draped a robe around her. She walked into an adjoining room while Prav looked down at the child. She looked up at him with beautiful golden eyes that glittered and were slit like a cat.

  “Your daughter has been blessed.” Prav said aloud. “She has your eyes.”

  “She will do great things one day.” The physician commented with a smile. “Just like her mother.”

  Ashrava returned, wrapped in the same kind of dark leather her comrade had worn. She gave her physician a pouch of coins with a nod, and turned to her husband as the physician took his payment and departed. Her golden catlike eyes glimmered in the candlelight.