“You don’t look like the king’s men,” he retorted.
“Never said we were,” another of the men said.
“Then I won’t be paying your toll, I’m afraid.”
The man in the back drew a bow and nocked an arrow. He aimed it at Duncan. “Might want to reconsider that thought.”
“Like hell I will.”
The arrow flew from the bowstring and sliced through the air towards Duncan. Suddenly it was cut from the air by Black Ice, gripped in Duncan’s hands.
The man with the bow growled in anger and loosed another arrow at Duncan. This arrow was burned into ash as it flew. It was Ravenna’s handiwork. She followed up by burning the bow right in the bandit’s hand.
“It’s a witch! Get her!” He yelled out. All three bandits drew blades and encircled Duncan and Ravenna. “Kill the man, and bind the witch. She’ll fetch a hefty price from the royal witch hunters… after we have our fun,” the bandit leader laughed.
Ravenna seethed at that. She focused on producing fire, and the hilts of the blades began to burn in the bandit’s palms. As the heat rose, they dropped their blades. Duncan capitalized on the opportunity, lopping off the head of the nearest bandit. As the blood gushed from the neck and onto the ground where the body had dropped, Duncan was already onto the next bandit. Without hesitation on remorse, he drove his sword into the belly of the bandit, twisting the blade clockwise as it entered. The bandit’s death rattle echoed in Duncan’s ear as the man fell.
Duncan menacingly turned to the leader, slinging blood with his sword. He stepped towards the man, the wolf rising in him. He then felt a hand on his chest. “Allow me,” Ravenna said, stopping him in his tracks.
Her hands were a flurry as she focused her magic on the bandit. First, she immobilized him, stopping him from fleeing. Then she focused a burning sensation on the bandit’s right hand. His hand began to burn and blister from an otherworldly heat. The bandit began to beg and scream for relief, but no relief ever came.
“Make it stop!”
“Why should I?”
“Please! Mercy!”
“Mercy?” She asked, her voice booming. “Why do you deserve mercy?
“PLEASE!” He shouted in agony.
Ravenna directed her hand towards the sword he had dropped. It began to levitate and float beside the bandit’s outstretched hand.
“You want mercy? Here is your mercy.”
She used her magic to bring the sword down on his wrist, severing the burning hand from the rest of the body. Blood spurted from the open wound and the man screamed out in agony.
“You…” He couldn’t even manage to finish his sentence. He passed out and fell to the ground, still as a statue.
“Merciless,” Duncan said.
“I could have killed him,” she replied.
“He will die without treatment. He’ll bleed out.”
Ravenna looked annoyed. She knew he was right. She hated being wrong.
“I know you have a thing against bandits just as I have my vendetta against your kind,” he continued. “Still, this man did not kill your family. He may have tried to kill you but he’s failed at that. You can let him die, mercilessly, or you can let him live with the memory of what’s transpired here, in hopes that he’ll learn from it.”
Ravenna glanced at the bleeding bandit. She waved a hand and the place where the bandit’s hand had been was smoking as if on fire. The heat she magically applied stopped the bleeding. By inflicting damage upon the body, she would save his life.
“You made the right choice,” Duncan spoke again.
“You’d have done the same?”
“I hunt monsters. I abhor witches. This man was neither. He was just a man who did bad things to get money. People like him must be dealt with, but that doesn’t always mean death. Sometimes, they just need to be shown the error of their ways. We did that much.”
“There appears to be more to you than meets the eye, Duncan,” she spoke. “Thank you for your reasoning.”
“Come, let’s go.”
They crossed the bridge that the bandits had been holding hostage for tolls and found themselves on the other side of the ravine. It wasn’t long before they would reach the deserts of southern Rivania. Soon they decided to stop for the night. It was better to stop before reaching the deserts, where the nights would be cold. They found a spot to set up camp, tied up the horses to some nearby trees, and the rested from the long day's journey.
Night fell across the world, but neither Duncan nor Ravenna felt sleep willing to take them. Ravenna gazed at the night sky filled with stars. Duncan, who had been sitting by the dying fire, came over and sat beside her.
“Nice night,” Duncan spoke first.
“It isn’t bad,” Ravenna replied. “Not like my nights in the Ebonwood though.”
“Nor mine back in Winterport. Not as cold.”
There was a silence that grew between them. There was much unspoken between each of them. Duncan’s hatred of witches, his slow acceptance of Ravenna, and Ravenna seeing more to Duncan than a man-beast with a hatred for magic. They were beginning to accept each other, but neither one was ready to admit it.
“You like the stars?” Duncan questioned, breaking the silence.
“I do. I’ve always heard that the stars are linked to each person’s future. Other witches have made careers out of telling the fortunes passed down by the stars. I never learned that though. I was focused on more practical magic. I know little about the stars and their fortunes.”
“So you can’t tell my future?” he asked with a chuckle.
“No,” she replied. “At most, I could tell you what your star sign means.”
“Star sign?”
“Each person in the world is linked to a sign made by the stars. For some, it’s the sign of the Thief, the Gambler, The Minstrel, or some other sign. The signs have different meanings and people sometimes use these as guidance in their lives. It’s the most basic form of Astromancy.”
“So if I knew my sign, I could tell you and then you’d tell me what it means?” He asked, seeming more curious and less patronizing.
“You need not know your sign. Most people don’t. I can divine it easily enough, but I doubt you want my witch magic working on you.”
Duncan pondered for a moment. “Go ahead,” he said.
Ravenna looked stunned. “You really want me working my magic on you?”
“I trust you not to do anything foolish.”
“Give me your hand.”
Duncan did as she asked and Ravenna began to divine Duncan’s star sign.
“Your sign is an ominous one. It is one not shared by many people,” She said.
As she delved further with her magic, she began to see the sign in her mine. She looked up to the stars and saw it clearly in the skies above. It was then that she realized it could not have been anything else. It could only have been this sign.”
“Wolf,” she spoke. “The sign of the wolf.”
“You’re joking, right? I mean, I’m bonded with a wolf spirit. How do you know you aren’t picking up his sign?”
“It is both his sign and yours,” Ravenna explained. “This is no joke. You really were born under the sign of the wolf.”
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
“In most cases…” she began to explain. “…Those born under the sign of the wolf are violent in nature. They are excellent fighters and hunters and providers. There is one thing that gets overlooked though. More of a legend than a fact of those born under this sign, but it shouldn’t necessarily be overlooked, especially with how rare the sign is.”
“Spit it out already.”
“Those born under this sign supposedly mate for life, just like actual wolves. They choose a mate and they lie with no other except their chosen mate for as long as either one of them lives.”
Duncan’s heart grew cold. “Yeah… Sounds about right.”
“Thinking of Asha again?”
“When am I not?”
Duncan stood to leave. Ravenna figured he might get like this, having been in contact with magic, but Duncan’s reasons for leaving the conversation were his own, and they were kept from all others.
Ravenna looked sadly upon Duncan, the lonely man that he was, and then retreated to her resting spot. It seems that sleep was finally on its way.
Chapter 11
The next morning, the fire was naught but ashes and the sun was rising over Rivania. Today they would reach the desert, and likely after spending a single night in the sands, they would reach Hammerforge the day after, assuming they made good time. Each of them got ready on their own that morning, and they met by the horses when they were ready to leave.
“Morning,” Duncan said.
“Morning,” Ravenna said back.
The ride into the desert was quiet. It was also a very uncharacteristic day for the desert. Instead of blazing sun, the skies were filled with clouds. It was still hot, but not near as hot as a normal day in the deserts would be. Something seemed off. Something seemed wrong.
As they rode on into the desert, they looked around them. To the east, they could see the capital city of Rivan on the horizon. It was a mere mass of stone in the distance but was much more impressive up close. They adjusted their course and headed southwest, in the direction of Hammerforge. They wouldn’t make it to the dwarven city today, but perhaps on the next day if they kept up good time.
Travelers in the desert were few and far between, which is why when they saw another soul wandering the scorching sands, Duncan and Ravenna stopped. Before them stood a man with darker skin as if baked by the sun. He was accompanied by all sorts of odds and ends, and yet had no mount to carry him through the desert.
“Hail, friends,” The man cried out as Duncan and Ravenna came within shouting distance. “Please, take a moment to browse. I promise you won’t find anything finer in the Rivanian sands.”
“That’s because there’s nothing in the Rivanian sands,” Duncan whispered to Ravenna as they approached.
Ravenna swiftly and discreetly punched Duncan in the side. “Be nice.”
The man sat on a small rug and had pitched a small covering to shield himself from the sun, which itself was hiding behind the clouds at the moment. Duncan and Ravenna walked up to his place on the ground and began to look around at the man’s wares.
“What a remarkable pendant you have,” the man said, eyeing Duncan’s gift from Asha.
“Not for sale,” he replied gruffly.
“Of course not. Something like that would be more than I could afford at any rate.”
“What kinds of things do you sell?” Ravenna asked, grasping the attention away from Duncan.
“All sorts of things!” The wayfarer replied. “Knick knacks, odds and ends, even the occasional magical item, if I can get my hands on it.”
Ravenna’s eyes wandered over all the merchant’s goods, eventually resting on one item in particular. It was a small ebony lamp, not unlike those that held Djinns in old stories. Magic seemed to emanate from the object. Ravenna was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She reached out to examine it, but a voice chimed in, breaking the somewhat hypnotic trance she found herself in.
“Ah, that old thing?” The desert merchant said. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t even have a Djinn in it. How worthless is that?”
“Of course,” Ravenna said absent-mindedly, still staring at the lamp.
“If there were a Djinn in it…” Duncan spoke, turning to look at the merchant. “…I’m sure someone would have summoned it by now.”
“Undoubtedly, good sir,” The man agreed.
“Of course, some claim that Djinns are simply old tales, something made up. I know they’re real though. I’ve seen them, even fought them. And something here doesn’t seem right.”
“Oh?” The merchant reacted nervously.
“A lamp with no Djinn, yet it is clearly steeped in magic. Your obvious attempt to dissuade Ravenna from touching the lamp. And most suspect, you haven’t peeled your eyes away from my pendant since you saw it. Djinns have a penchant for magical items and are steeped in magic themselves. In other words, friend…” Duncan gripped the haft of Black Ice. “…I think you’re a Djinn.”
“Me, a Djinn? Sir, I believe you have lost your senses.”
“Easy way to find out.”
Duncan reached out for the lamp, Ravenna watching his every move. Suddenly, like a gust of wind, the lamp was snatched away before Duncan could reach it. The odd merchant was dangling the lamp by its handle.
“Djinn,” Duncan accused him, unsheathing his sword.
“Guilty as charged.” The merchant replied.
His human features began to peel away, and where he once stood was now a nearly corporeal Djinn. The lower half of the body was a wispy tail, while everything from the waist up was more solid. His skin was a vivid green, and his hair was pulled up into a ponytail that hung from the top of his head. He was no longer even vaguely human.
“I’ll have that pendant now,” The Djinn spoke to Duncan.
“Over my dead body.”
“That’s the idea,” he replied. “If you will not give it to me willingly, then I will simply have to end your life and take it from you.”
Duncan gripped the blade, ready to take a stand. If he and Ravenna were to have any hope of defeating the Djinn, they would need the lamp. Lamps could trap Djinns but also gave mastery over the Djinn to whoever held the lamp. Duncan, in his many travels, had been master over a few Djinns before but used his mastery to trick the Djinns into eternal imprisonment. Killing a Djinn was damn near impossible, but to trick one was doable, you simply had to have your wits about you to do it. Duncan never was very short on wits.
For that matter, neither was Ravenna. When the Djinn transformed, she immediately raised a barrier around the three of them. Even with the Djinn’s magical abilities, he could not escape the barrier.
Duncan brandished Black Ice and charged at the Djinn. He knew he needed to retrieve the ebony lamp and gain mastery over the Djinn. Masterless Djinns were highly protective of their lamps, so he knew getting a hold of it would require a fight. He hoped that between Ravenna and himself, they could capture the lamp and defeat the Djinn.
The ebony lamp hung at the Djinn’s waist, suspended by magic. They simply needed to reach out and grab hold of it. Duncan aimed his blade, not at the Djinn, but the lamp, hoping the Blacksteel would cut it free of its magical strings. It was a task easier envisioned than carried out, as the Djinn liked to teleport all around the area, popping up in one place before disappearing and materializing in another. He couldn’t teleport out of the area of the barrier, but within it, he could move freely.
What they needed was a trap. A way to magically bind the Djinn and make him unable to move. For Duncan, this was impossible, but not for Ravenna. This was her first Djinn, but she was smart. She watched as the Djinn magically moved around the area. There was a vague pattern to it, and so she focused and waited until she knew exactly where the Djinn would pop up. She reached out with a magical grasp and held the Djinn in place. A strange glyph appeared on the ground below him, signifying a magical trap. It was a way of trapping anything magical, but you had to be magical in order to do it. It was useful for witches who fought other witches, or in this case, a witch fighting a Djinn.
The Djinn became immobilized, and writhed around within its binding, trying to break free. Ravenna held tight though, and would not let the Djinn free. Duncan walked close to the creature and plunged his blade into its chest. He knew this would not kill the Djinn, but the Blacksteel of the sword would cause it pain, and Duncan wanted it to feel pain. As he kept the sword plunged deep into the Djinn’s body, Duncan reached out to grab the ebony lamp from the Djinn’s waist.
“No!” the Djinn shouted.
“Yes,” Duncan replied coldly.
He took the lamp in his hands and he could feel the magic of the Djinn that satura
ted the lamp. “Let him go, Ravenna,” he said, confident he could now control the Djinn.
Ravenna did as she was told. The trap dissipated and the Djinn hung his head, knowing that although he was freed from the witch’s hold, he was bound to Duncan, his new master.
“You will bend to my will, Djinn,” Duncan commanded.
“Yes… Master,” the Djinn said begrudgingly.
“I have not three wishes for you. I have only one. However, I know how you Djinns operate. You are bound until three wishes are granted, and then you are set free. Since I don’t want you following me around forever, I’ll have to make three wishes.”
“Actually, you don’t,” Ravenna chimed in.
Duncan spun to look at her. “What?”
“You don’t have to make three wishes. You can do it all in one,” she explained. “You need to make a wish that banishes the Djinn in some way. Something that breaks the Djinn’s rule.”
Duncan pondered this and soon he had an answer. “I wish for you to be stripped of all your magic.”
“What?” The Djinn said. “You… You can’t do that!”
“What’s the matter? Can’t make it happen?”
“I can. But you cannot wish such a thing upon me!” He pleaded.
“Can and did. Now make it happen, Djinn.”
“Yes, master,” The Djinn reluctantly agreed.
The Djinn snapped his fingers and a maelstrom of magic sprung up around them. The magic was stripped from the Djinn and shrouded Duncan and Ravenna. As the magical storm ceased, the Djinn looked human again and was down on his knees. The ebony lamp crumbled in Duncan’s hands, disintegrating into nothingness.
“I feel… stronger,” said Ravenna. “As if my magic has increased three-fold.”
“I also feel different,” Duncan confessed.
“That’s because my magic now lies in you,” The ex-Djinn chuckled.
Duncan’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You and your witch friend now own my magic. I had to make it go somewhere, so it went into you. You’ll never be as powerful as I was, but the potency of the magic itself is in you. That’s why she feels as if her magic increased times three. It’s why you feel different too. There’s a little bit of me in you now.”
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