by Aire, D. H.
The high point of the evening was when Qapin proposed the toast. “To our Chief Engineer: we look forward to your repairing our systems.”
Blazing pain knocked George right out of his seat and he heard and echoing voice in his mind, You must come to me! Come to the Empire! Brook no delay!
George blinked rapidly as Greth and Lawson tried to help him up as Mendra shouted for everyone to get out of her way.
“I’m fine,” he muttered as he blinked back the afterimage of a silver haired man with pointed ears.
George rose to his feet with the help of Greth and Lawson, and felt compelled to leave at once. Drowsily, George said, “I can’t stay.”
“What do you mean you can’t stay?” Qapin asked.
“Apparently, my ride home is waiting.”
“Your what?” he said.
“Sorry, old figure of speech, which apparently was lost on your ancestral voyage here.”
Lawson said, “But, George, you can’t go. You’ve so much to teach us, to teach me.”
“The Core can do that now that it’s in phase with you. Just use the uplink.”
“Where will you go?” Mendra asked.
He pointed east. “Thataway.”
“But, George, the Core doesn’t recognize us as crew as it does you.”
‘He has an excellent point there, George.’ Staff quipped.
“That’s easy,” George assured. The staff flared in his hand as he linked with the ship’s computer.
“Additions to the crew directory,” George called.
STANDING BY.
“Lawson, Assistant Chief Engineer,” he announced as the dwarf troll suddenly grinned.
ACKNOWLEDGED.
“Mendra, Chief Medical Officer.”
ACKNOWLEDGED.
“Qapin is now second in command of the ship,” which apparently was the highest captaincy rank allowed since the ship still recognized its senior captain as "location undetermined."
ACKNOWLEDGED.
“Greth is colonel of the ships marine detachment.”
ACKNOWLEDGED.
“Councilor Berrick is barred from attaining crew status as is the Head of the Ship’s Archives and all his current staff members until such time as I as senior officer rescinds this order.”
ACKNOWLEDGED.
“You will assist the designated crewmembers and those they so designate in education and repair of systems, noting that system functions may have to be tested, even if they should, according to all known laws of science, be inoperable.”
ACKNOWLEDGED.
“Chief Engineer, George Bradley, out.” Staff’s glow dimmed as everyone stood proudly.
He felt a twinge of a headache coming on as he added, “With that taken care of, I can be on my way tomorrow.” The headache quickly faded.
‘George, that was weird.’
“You're telling me,” he said under his breath and smiled at his new friends.
“What does colonel of marines mean?” Greth said.
“Look it up, you’re gonna love it.”
Cle’or was giving George the oddest look at that point in his story. Se’and remained impossible to read. Her mind never leaked a thought either, George realized, as opposed to Fri’il whose thoughts bordered on hero worship.
No, not good at all, he thought.
‘Maybe you’ll get lucky, George.’
He coughed and glared at his staff.
‘George! I meant maybe she’ll fall for Balfour.’
Now the elfblooded Balfour coughed, obviously overhearing that last mental remark. He whispered, “You do realize I’m a lot older than you?”
George smiled. Balfour looked about twenty-six, making George the older in appearance.
“But that story doesn’t explain the blade,” Se’and said.
“Or your wyvern cloak,” said Me’oh.
“No, it doesn’t, does it?”
“Come on, Je’orj, please tell us,” Se’and asked.
Her being the first to ask surprised George.
“Please,” Fri’il said.
“Oh, all right.”
“George, your ugly face has grown on me.”
“Thanks, Mendra.”
She smiled, “I made this for you. We don’t want you to catch cold out there.” She presented him with a folded cloak which caught the light in such a way that he had difficulty looking at it.
“Go on, put it on.”
George wrapped himself in the heavy cloak.
“It’s from the wyvern that tried to kill you in Ashra Kodiu. It only seemed fitting since we wrapped your staff in it so we could handle it when you were unconscious, that the rest be worn by you.”
“Uh, thanks,” George said, not really wanting to reflect on those details.
Greth drew his knife from his belt, “You will need this.”
George looked at the blade’s discolored metal, nearly black. “This isn’t steel.”
“It’s an alloy that magery can’t harm.”
“You make it?”
“It is our greatest secret. Please ask no more about it.”
“All right, thank you.”
Qapin said, “When you face magery, that blade will sunder it. It can even rend spells cast against you. Keep it with you always!”
“I will, I promise.”
“The giving of a knife,” Greth said, “also means we are blood brothers.”
“Does that me you want me to cut myself with it?”
“Cut yourself? No, please do not. Being of the blood of humans has been sacrifice enough for our people.”
George nodded, looking up at him. His eyes were so kind for a troll out of a nightmare. “I will lead you to our border. It is best to go soon before the others realize their chief engineer has left without doing any more great miracles.”
He looked about, “What of Lawson?”
“Lawson,” Qapin said. “That young man doesn’t want you to go.”
Mendra said, “What’s worse is he wants to go with you.”
“I don’t think it would be wise,” George said.
“It wouldn’t be,” Qapin agreed, “he’s Assistant Chief Engineer and has much to learn from the Core. He will have much to teach us, I have no doubt.”
“Who would have thought those who are ugliest could be so important to our People?” Mendra asked.
George simply nodded.
Greth led him out through the warren of long abandoned corridors, when they heard the sound of running feet. Greth drew his knife then saw it was Lawson and put it away. “How did you find us?”
“The Core’s re-routed Internal Security. I could see you on the monitors.”
“You’re doing well with the systems then.”
“Core’s begun teaching me and it wants me to teach the younger children while they are still small enough to wear the uplink helmets. It’s got two more terminals running on the upper level so I can keep them out of the Core.”
“That’s great, Lawson.”
“You know I want to come with you,” Lawson admitted to George.
“You can’t.”
“Yet.”
“Lawson,” Greth rasped.
Lawson smiled, “You watch for me. I’ll find you! We engineers gotta stick together!”
George gave him a hug, which was easier to do than the awkward one he had given to the crying Mendra, who was nearly ten feet tall. “Study hard, my friend, and encourage those kids to as well. Prect needs more like you.”
“Don’t go,” Lawson whispered.
“I have to. It’s my only chance of getting back home.”
Lawson stepped back and jabbed his finger at Greth, “You take beyond the border!”
“I’ll take him as far as I can.”
Greth turned the manual hatch and opened the door to the outside world where the sunlight was bright. All George could see for miles was sand stretching to the horizon. He glanced back at Lawson and felt a mental tugging and heard a quiet vo
ice, Come. Come to the Empire.
George stood up and stretched.
“You can’t just end the tale there, Je’orj!” Fri’il pleaded.
“Oh, yes, I can,” he laughed.
“Balfour’s told us about his nephew Casber seeing you battling in the Great Waste.”
“What? Oh, that was nothing.”
Cle’or probed, “You fought more wyverns, didn’t you?”
“An army of them! So, I really don’t need your help.”
Se’and shook her head, “You’re a terrible liar! That whole tale was a lie, wasn’t it? Living with trolls, bah!”
George watched her stalk off, while Fri’il looked at him, then glanced at Se’and retreating back.
Cle’or said, “We have wasted enough time. If we push the horses we should be able to reach Edous before dusk.”
“You’ll like Edous,” Balfour said. “It’s a decent sized city-state, although a tad boring.”
“I can do with boring,” George said.
’Se’and’s kinda cute when she’s mad.’
George leaned on his staff and muttered, “Shut up.”
Fri’il frowned, “What?”
“Uh, nothing, just thinking aloud.”
‘She’s cute too.’
“Shut up.”
Fri’il glanced back as Balfour struggled to not laugh.
Me’oh brought over salve, “George, this should help with those saddle sores. Could you use any help with it?”
“No!”
Balfour fell down laughing. Staff at least had the grace to keep its mechanical thoughts to itself.
The acolyte ran up the steps past the gleaming stone columns of the ebone rock used to build the Temple. The structure dwarfed the other buildings lining the square.
The black robed priest he reported to was skeptical, but allowed him to proceed. The young acolyte had the merest trace of elvin blood, but it was enough to wield magery. He bowed low, entering the study of the woman with long flowing black hair, her black robes silken. “High Priestess, I am honored!”
“Speak quickly and do not waste my time!” she rasped as she fed her pet, a black-furred beast rising on its haunches and growling at the acolyte. The creature shimmered and transformed into a large black feathered bird, squawked and leapt to its perch., and eyed the acolyte hungrily.
“I bring a warning, mistress! A new power has entered the city!” he shouted.
“Bah!” she exclaimed as the bird fanned its wings. “I would have felt such a thing! You waste my time!” Raising her hands, she began to cast a spell that would teach the lowly acolyte a lesson he would not soon forget.
The acolyte shrilled, “Please listen to me, mistress!”
She relented and altered the spell. The acolyte trembled as he felt the force of her magery build around him then settle within. He stiffened, thinking back to the arrival of the strangers. She saw them in his memory with acuity far beyond mortal seeing.
He had first seen the elvin half-breed dressed in the mountain furs. Only the faintest aura of the gift clung about him. His was clearly a paltry gift that might best manifest a weak skill for healing, something even the acolyte could not mistake for a major power.
He had observed the other members of the party, all human. The sight of the black cloaked Cathartan escort was curious. What errand for their sire would bring such people here so far from their cursed land?
Perhaps they bore a bespelled charm or talisman? The acolyte’s memory focused on the human male with a staff tethered by his knee.
He was rather strangely dressed. His tunic and pants were of an unusual fabric and color. The acolyte noticed the faintest aura of magery about him. It was instantly clear that the man had no trace of elvin blood, no inborn mage talent. Abruptly, that very impression vanished, making the acolyte wonder if he had really seen anything at all.
The staff suddenly drew the acolyte’s attention, he recalled. It briefly glowed with an immense aura of power. That must be the source of the magery. A mage’s staff lay in the hands of a human!
The High Priestess returned to the present aghast. That staff blazed in her mind with the purest power. It was disguised by a powerful spell that must have been forgotten in all but the oldest of Elvin Lore.
“I must have it!” she shrieked. She shouted for her gray robed servitors, old human males long sworn to her dark master.
They hurried to her from the adjoining room and quickly removed the acolyte’s wilted body. They did their best to avoid looking at the burned cinders that had been his eyes. As they carried him away, the dark bird squawked, straining to reach the fresh meat.
“Oh, not for you, my sweet,” she laughed, “soon you’ll feast upon a foolish human who fancies himself a mage!”
Chapter 12: The Inn
George tried not to gawk as they rode through the city of Edous. All thought of his saddle sores and the pains of actually riding a horse were forgotten. The city was incredible. Narrow streets filled with people hocking wares. A mother glanced out her second story window, saw their escort, then shouted to her children to come inside. The woman’s fear was much less interesting than the window’s wooden shutters beside her. He marvelled at the intricate workmanship and skill.
Ox drawn carts laden with produce halted for them as they passed, while his black cloaked escort smiled thinly as they watched the crowds. He felt as if he had gone back in time and was glimpsing an ancient city out of the Middle Ages. It was an archaeologist’s dream. Yet, in truth it was this particular archaeologist’s nightmare.
They reached their destination and the youngest member of his Cathartan escort, Fri’il, hurriedly dismounted and rushed to help him. Less awkwardly than he imagined, he got off the horse. She looked at him as if in reproach and took the reins.
He groaned, wishing he could have found some way to turn down the unwonted gift of their four member escort. The women had ignored their offer of release from service. As far as they were concerned, Sire Ryff’s lifebond to serve and protect them was inviolate.
George’s musings were driven from his thoughts as Balfour reached the door to the inn and spoke to Se’and, the nominal leader of their escort.
“I’ll handle this,” he assured.
She looked at him condescendingly. “Master, I’m quite experienced in these matters. But, if you would like to make our arrangements, please do.”
George, frustrated, explained, “I would like to get some rest, so if we could just get on with it, I would appreciate it.”
Se’and straightened and bowed, then held the door for them to enter.
“M’lord Je’orj,” she whispered, “you do not yet comprehend the honor my sire has granted you both.”
“That’s doubtless true,” he replied.
“Welcome to Edous!” an old innkeeper greeted. He suspiciously eyed Balfour in his mountain garb. “It is you, master Winome. It has been some time since last you passed this way. But surely you are a healer by now.”
Balfour winced. Years before he had come through Edous on his way to the Imperial Healer’s Hall in the Aqwaine Empire. He smiled, putting aside the memories of his failure. Things were different now that he was George’s protégé.
The innkeeper nodded at the elfblood’s companions.
“How may I serve you, Master Winome?”
“We are a party of six and seek suitable lodgings for the night. Preferably two rooms and an adjoining bath,” the young elfblood added, glancing at his companion, who could not quite hide his saddle induced limp.
A pained look crossed the innkeeper’s face. “I’m so sorry. But I’ve no such available. Perhaps you might care for space here in the common room?”
Balfour opened his mouth to protest, when Se’and abruptly confronted the man.
“That will simply not do, sir. We are a Cathartan Household and must have private accommodations suitable to our station. We will take your best rooms for a fair remuneration, of course.”
Th
e innkeeper smiled and cleared his throat.
Piqued, Balfour was ready to interject as George placed a restraining hand on his arm. He sighed as Se’and smiled thinly. The innkeeper named the price, to which she responded, “That’s a price for a room in the Empire, but here in the Crescent?”
He protested.
She raised her hand, “Does not Cathartan gold still bring higher value in the exchange?” She jingled her weighty purse.
Greed gleamed in his eyes. “Say a gold per suite per day?”
She chuckled. “Let’s see the rooms first just to be certain they a worth such a price.”
With a clap of his hands, the innkeeper grinned. “Right this way, my lady.”
The innkeeper brought them to a hall of vacant, mid-sized rooms, none impressive to George but suitable enough to rest in. They looked upon a simple room with a wide bed and a small window overlooking the street.
“Balfour and I will take this room, you and the others may take another,” George commented casually after the innkeeper left with Se’and’s gold for the night’s lodging in his hands.
Se’and simply smiled at George and shook her head, following him into the room. “I stay with you as is my duty. Me’oh will join Master Balfour in the other.”
The elfblood healer glanced behind him as Me’oh took his bag to the other room. She paused, waiting for the elfblood at the door.
“My lord?”
Balfour swallowed and glanced at George helplessly, then noted the same look on his friend’s face. Se’and, in the meantime, set their bags down defiantly.
“This is not necessary,” George stated, already knowing such protest was futile. “I am quite capable of protecting myself.”
“That’s debatable, but not the issue, m’lord,” she said as she closed the door. She had picked up calling him “m’lord” again. “We have our duties to perform and it is best you come to accept our role,” she added, assessing the large single bed in the room.
George cleared his throat and leaned heavily on his staff, “This is not Cathart, Se’and. Men are not an endangered species as they are in your land. We don’t need to be protected at the cost of your very lives.”
Se’and shook her head. “Accept that we are yours, body and soul. We are a Cathartan house by bond at my sire’s word. There can be no higher responsibility.”