Eye of the Moonrat (The Bowl of Souls: Book One)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  They had no choice but to meet their charge head on. Justan knocked the leading sword of the beast away with his left blade and followed the swing through with the right, slicing deep into the creature’s abdomen. He kicked the creature away and thrust his left arm forward, again spearing the next goblin through the ribs. Riveren ripped through others with long sweeps of his mighty axe, sending goblin chunks arcing into the air.

  Soon the dwarf caught up with them and they finished the remaining goblins together. As the dwarf’s hammer turned the last monster’s ribcage into a bag of jelly, there was a mighty clap of thunder. The land darkened.

  To Justan’s amazement the sky above them was suddenly filled with dark clouds. Rain poured down. Justan turned back to the caravan and saw Valtrek standing with his arms raised into the air, a glowing staff in one hand.

  “Did I miss anything?” the wizard asked.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The sudden downpour extinguished the rampant fires and then the sky was clear again. The wounded were tended to: The mage, Arcon, had been wounded the most severely, but because of the quick action of his fellow mages, he was on the road to recovery. Zambon had been hit several times and was weakened from the ash in his lungs, but his burns were not severe. The arrow in his shoulder, though poisoned, had not struck any major artery.

  Justan had several small cuts himself, which he felt were of no importance. He refused to be healed until the others were taken care of. He took his perch back up on the top of the wagon with his bow drawn, looking for any straggling goblins.

  He was furious at Valtrek for sitting in his wagon while his students were in danger. What had he been doing in there anyway? Some of them might have died.

  Vannya called up to Justan several times offering to heal him, but he refused, preferring to keep his vigilant post looking out for danger. Justan stayed on top of the wagon until the caravan stopped for camp late that afternoon. It was only then as he stretched out his aching back from his protective watch on the moving wagon that he let her heal him. She grumbled the entire time she was looking over his cuts and bruises.

  “I can’t believe how foolish you men can be. Do you feel like it makes you some big hero to refuse to be healed when there is no reason that you couldn’t just stop for a few minutes? Everyone saw you up there bleeding and trying to look gallant. I hope you know that it just made you look like a stupid little boy!”

  Justan blushed. Her remarks weren’t too far off the mark. His first great battle had been fought that day and he had felt like the proud warrior he had always dreamed of being wounded, but standing vigilant. Now he felt a little sheepish, realizing how silly he must have looked.

  “Well I was only making sure that no goblins came back.” he explained lamely. She just snorted in reply and focused in on healing his wounds. He felt more than a little uncomfortable having this charming young woman running her hands over him. He understood why she had caused such a ruckus at the Training School.

  Justan was relieved when she finished. Jhonate would have found his discomfort quite amusing.

  “Anyway,” Vannya said. “I suppose I should be thanking you. We-” She motioned towards the other mages, “really haven’t been in such a battle before, and we froze up. We would have been in dire straights if you hadn’t charged right in the midst of those things.” She smiled at him. “You should come join us in the wagon some time. It might be fun. After all, we will be seeing each other at the Mage School and it can't be a bad idea to have friends in a new place.”

  As she left him, Justan felt a lot better. He had been so focused on his new role as protector that he hadn’t realized how much discomfort the wounds were causing. Justan also felt more than a little bit chastened by her comments. She was right. It would be smart for him to try to make friends with the other Mage School students. But Justan had never been very good at making friends. He looked over at the mages with their weak bodies hiding mysterious powers and decided that he couldn’t make himself do it quite yet.

  He was startled from his musings by the sound of a gruff voice. The dwarf that had come to their aid had decided to accompany the caravan to the dwarven town of Wobble, which was the next village on their journey. Justan was so caught up in his own feelings of heroism that he had all but forgotten about him.

  Justan walked past the main campfire where the mages were talking and playing their cards. The dwarf was standing in front of a cook pot, stirring a strange brown substance. For the first time, Justan realized how out of the ordinary the dwarf looked.

  He was big for a dwarf, and he didn’t wear long hair and a beard, as was the norm. His thick brown hair was cropped short and he was clean-shaven, but for a large handlebar mustache that curled up on the ends. It looked to be immaculately kept. As Justan approached, the dwarf looked up and grinned. His broad smile revealed a few missing teeth.

  The dwarf’s voice was loud and coarse. “Well, there you are, boy!” he said in an accent that Justan couldn’t quite place. “I wondered when you was gonna come down from yer ‘heroic pose’ and join us! Did the smell of this here grub get to ya?”

  “Actually, I just wanted to come and thank you for the help earlier.” Justan felt quite embarrassed. Had everyone really noticed? He stretched out his hand. “I am Justan, son of Faldon the Fierce.”

  “Fightin’ goblins is always a pleasure!” the dwarf exclaimed. “Slappin’ them things around is more fun than rollin’ a barrel full of hogtrops!” The massive dwarf guffawed, and slapped Justan on the back with enough force to send him stumbling forward a few steps.

  Justan felt himself laughing too despite his stinging back. The dwarf’s attitude was infectious. “How did you find us?” he asked.

  “I’ve been stayin’ in Wobble the last couple of days, visitin’ some kin of mine. It gets borin’ real quick around town and I got restless. So I went out into the prairie lookin’ fer trouble. I saw some smoke and when I came runnin', I ran right into them goblins. I figured anyone being attacked by them smelly things is a friend of mine!” He laughed again, and Justan joined in. He liked this dwarf.

  “Say, how would you like to try my special recipe pepper-bean stew?” The beefy dwarf didn’t wait for an answer, but quickly ladled a bowl of the stuff and handed it to him. Justan looked back toward the main fire and noticed that no one else had taken the dwarf up on his offer.

  Justan sniffed the stew. It had a pungent smell that stung his eyes and made his mouth water.

  “What is it made of?” he asked.

  “Why, dried pepper-beans, of course! I grew them fellers myself. It’s a delicacy.” Justan looked into the bowl with uncertainty. “Come on, boy! It ain’t no good cold.”

  The dwarf looked on the verge of being upset so Justan took a quick bite. His mouth was filled with pleasant spicy flavors.

  “It’s very good!” he exclaimed, and took several more bites, almost finishing the bowl. The flavors were so intense that it was almost overwhelming. Then the heat hit him.

  Justan gasped. His mouth felt like it was literally on fire! He choked that bite down and stared at the bowl as if expecting to see little fire demons dancing in the sludge. His eyes were watering so bad that tears were streaming down his face.

  “Well I’ll be,” the dwarf whispered. “I know it’s good, but there’s no need to be cryin’! Hell, I thought it’d be a little too mild!” He took the bowl from Justan and took a slurp. He eyed him quizzically. “Hmm, well it ain’t as good as last time, but I’m glad you like it.” He thrust out his meaty hand. “Name’s Lenui.”

  Justan barely saw the hand through his blurry eyes, but he shook it anyway. “Lenny?” he coughed.

  “Lenui,” the dwarf corrected, but Justan didn’t really hear him. He was too busy looking frantically for some water. “Wait just one minute!” Lenui suddenly bellowed. “You know Sir Hilt?”

  “Yes. Do you know him?” Justan, whose mouth was now feeling more numb than hot, responded. He was wondering if he w
ould ever get feeling back in his tongue.

  “Well, hoppin’ rock lizards! Of course I do. I made them swords yer wearin’.”

  “You made them?”

  The dwarf smiled in pride, and puffed out his already bulging chest. “Yer lookin’ at Lenui Firegobbler, the best smithy this side of the Whitebridge!” He scooped a bowl of the stew for himself and sat down on a tree stump. “Here, son, let me take a look see at them swords.” Justan handed them over.

  “So Lenny,” Justan said. The dwarf raised one eyebrow at his pronunciation, but let it slide. “How do you know Sir Hilt?” His mouth was clear of that burning sensation now and to his surprise, he even entertained the thought of another bowl.

  “I met the man a long time ago. We was both in the city of Dremald at the time, and I was lookin’ to start a name fer myself in Dremaldria.” The dwarf paused every once in a while to blow a whistle through one of his missing teeth between bites of the stew.

  “You can have more if you want, son. Don’t be shy.” To his amazement, Justan found himself doing just that. “Let’s see. Where was I? Oh, yes. Well I bought this little shop on smithy row and Hilt was one of my first customers. That weren’t his name back then, you know. It was somethin' like . . . George? Yeah, George I suppose. But he was in a hurry and I made these swords for him.”

  Lenui swung the swords a few times and though he looked kind of silly waving those slender swords with his beefy arms, Justan could see that the dwarf knew how to use them. “These were kind of a rush job, you know.”

  Justan was surprised. “You must be joking. They are the most perfectly balanced swords I have ever run across.”

  Lenui grinned his gap-toothed grin, “Why, that’s a mighty nice complement, son, but it ain't deserved.” He chuckled and handed the swords back to Justan. “Anyway, Sir Hilt insisted on payin' me far more than they was worth. When I tried to give some of it back, he told me to consider it a down payment on somethin’ else one day.

  “Well, years later when I was into my name as a smithy, he came back. Let me tell you somethin', boy. The man had a fire in his eyes and he asked me to make him the best pair of swords I could forge. He was gettin’ ready to go to the Mage School and get named. He needed some namin’ swords. Well I had been savin’ some special ore that my brother gave me for just such an occasion.” Lenui paused for a moment and reached inside his pack to pull out a waterskin full of something that definitely wasn’t water because he gasped and whistled through his missing tooth again after he drank it.

  “Come on, boy, eat! If you wanna keep the kiddies up tonight, you gotta fill-er up!” Justan didn’t know what the dwarf was talking about, but he attacked the stew with gusto. Lenui chuckled again. The others in the camp gave the two of them puzzled looks. The stew tasted wonderful, but soon Justan was on fire again and Lenui handed the waterskin over.

  Justan had never drank alcohol before. It never interested him. He always thought it strange that people would want to impair themselves. Besides, the students in the Battle Academy were not allowed to drink and Justan tried to live by academy rules even though he hadn’t made it there yet. But at that moment he was caught off guard and he was willing to drink anything that would ease the pain in his mouth.

  It was a mistake. This liquid washed away the heat of the stew like a lava flow might smother a campfire. He sputtered and spat, half expecting blood to come pouring out of his mouth. For a moment, Justan thought he would die.

  “That’s right, son, drink up! Pepper-beans make a right fine wine when fermented just right. The elves call it ‘Firewater.’” He slapped Justan on the back with gusto. “Now back to my story. You see, I made two of the most purty swords you ever did see. Sir Hilt paid me well for 'em too. The next time I saw him, his name weren’t George no more, no sir! He was Hilt, through and through. He had the rune on his hand, and on the two swords I made him.” The dwarf sighed. “Some of my best work, they was.”

  Even through the fiery pain, Justan was fascinated by the story of his mysterious mentor. The gulp of the firewater he had taken had loosened his weary muscles and ignited something inside of him.

  “This is what a dragon must feel like,” he muttered.

  Justan thanked the dwarf for the story and left to find his bed. He was sweating profusely. His belly ached. For a moment he was afraid that the food might eat its way out of him, but when he put his hand to his stomach, his skin felt cool.

  Justan started for his bedroll to get some sleep, but halfway there he changed his mind. The dwarven meal had started a fire in his belly, but it had also ignited anger in his mind. He turned and headed towards Valtrek’s wagon. The wizard had re-entered the wagon as soon as the caravan had departed the scene of the battle with the goblins and hadn’t come back out. Justan decided to have it out with him then and there.

  He strode a little unsteadily to the door and up the first step. “Hey, Ambassador!” He pounded on the door, and the rune glowed brightly. He leaned in until his lips almost touched it. “I need to talk to you!” he yelled. The doorknob turned and he stumbled off of the step, waiting.

  The door opened and the wizard slipped out, holding both hands to his ears. As the door shut behind him, an aromatic smoke wafted out. “I told you before, you don’t need to speak so loud. This rune is a delicate instrument!” He looked down at Justan and saw the young man swaying red faced, with fists clenched. “Goodness boy, are you drunk?”

  “I never drink,” Justan replied, his voice slurred. “Listen Valtrek, I have a couple things I need to say to y-,” He never had a chance to finish. The wizard gestured and froze him in place with a holding spell.

  Valtrek paced around Justan as he spoke.

  “Now you may not be officially under contract to the school as of yet, young Justan. But there are some rules that you will follow for the rest of this journey.”

  He paused and put his hands on either side of Justan’s head. The wizard mumbled under his breath and the fire in Justan’s belly was extinguished. His head cleared. Justan hadn’t realized how clouded his thinking had been. The wizard stepped back and raised one eyebrow.

  “Interesting. We will have to talk about that frost rune on your chest later, but as I was saying, there are rules I will hold you to.” Valtrek stood in front of the immobilized man and spoke commandingly with both hands on his hips. “First of all, you will not drink liquor anymore. That is conduct unbecoming a Mage School cadet. Secondly, you will not call me simply Valtrek. I wish you to address me as Professor Valtrek, do you understand?” Justan couldn’t move to respond. “Very well. You may move again.”

  Justan felt the spell lifted. He was embarrassed. As soon as the wizard had pulled the effects of the liquor from his mind, he realized how foolishly he had acted.

  “I apologize for my actions. My mind was clouded.” He explained. Still, he was not happy with the man. “Professor, I do have some questions for you.”

  “But of course.” The wizard smiled. “As I said to you earlier, we both have much to learn from each other. But let’s get away where we can talk in private.”

  They walked from the camp a short ways before Riveren stepped out of the shadows in front of them.

  “Good evening, Ambassador. Hello, Justan.” They both nodded in greeting. “If you have to hold council in the grass, please keep your wits about you. This close to the town of Wobble the chances are slim that you could be attacked by any more goblins, but I’m not convinced that they are all gone.”

  The wizard smiled. “Thank you for your concern, sir. We will take that under advisement.” The guard nodded and walked away, his eyes darting about, searching for danger. Valtrek turned to Justan. “I must admit, the academy turns out a fine warrior. I can understand why you would want to graduate from there.”

  Justan was surprised to hear those words come out of the man’s mouth. It set him off kilter. Every time he intended to confront Valtrek, the wizard seemed to disarm him. Even though he had come to Valtrek’s
wagon intending to shout at him, he now found himself taking a far more respectful stance.

  “Uh, Professor, sir. I am puzzled by today’s events. Why is it that you spend so much time locked up in that wagon?”

  The wizard shrugged. “I understand your concern, Justan. I am afraid that I have much work to do, and I am not able to spend as much time as I would like in the presence of my students.”

  Justan couldn’t accept that excuse. “But what could you be doing in your wagon that is possibly as important as your students getting attacked by a horde of goblins?” Justan was expecting an angry denial, but once again, the wizard surprised him.

  Valtrek sighed and his shoulders slumped. He looked in to Justan’s eyes with a weary expression. “Unfortunately, my boy, I am afraid that I will not be able to give you the true answer. The work that I do is very important, and I was only able to get away from it when I could truly help.”