by F. P. Spirit
Aksel nearly spit out his tea. He cast a quick glance at Ruka. The young teen had a hand over her mouth, doing her best to stifle a giggle. Meanwhile, Lothar continued to think out loud. “…and the temple’s supply of potions were recently depleted.” He paused, his eyes suddenly coming alight. “Wait, that’s it! There’s a potion vendor in town. He operates out of the inn. He goes by the name of Philmar.”
Aksel had not really looked for a potions shop last time they were in town, having no need for one. He thought it somewhat dubious, though, that this vendor sold potions out of the inn. Aksel cast a glance at Ruka—she gave him a nod, and started to rise. Aksel stood up as well. “Thank you for your hospitality, Lothar, but we really must leave now. We are kind of in a rush.”
Lothar stood as well, and gave the duo a knowing smile. “Such it is with youth. Always rushing here and there.” He escorted them to the door and stood to one side. “Anyway, I hope you find your cure.”
Ruka gave the old gentlemen a genuine smile and said, “Thank you,” before exiting the house. Aksel thanked him again as well, then followed her through the threshold. The little cleric glanced up into the night sky as they hurried up the road back toward the inn. It was nearing midnight, and they still hadn’t found a cure for Ruka. The prospect of dealing with a potion vendor out of the inn nagged at the back of his mind. He could just imagine what Seth would say about it.
Potion vendor, my ass. Probably just colored water jacked up at three times the price. The thought brought a smile to Aksel’s face, as they rushed through the night toward the House of Barmann.
When the duo reached the inn, Barmann pointed out Philmar to them. Despite the late hour, the vendor was still up, nursing a mug of ale by himself at a corner table in the common room. Aksel eyed this Philmar carefully—he was a rather seedy-looking character, with long, straggly black hair and a chin thinly covered with dark stubble, wearing a patched and stained what-used-to-be-tan longcoat.
Aksel exchanged a quick glance with Ruka. The young teen wore a distrustful expression that mirrored Aksel’s thoughts, but she merely shrugged at his silent query. The two of them left the bar and strode over to the potion vendor’s table.
The shabby-looking Philmar watched them out of the corner of his eye as they approached. Aksel stopped in front of the man’s table, and spoke in as polite a voice as he could muster. “Excuse me sir, might you be Philmar?”
Philmar peered out over the top of his mug, and responded with a sneer. “Who wants to know?”
Aksel took a deep breath, immediately regretting it. This Philmar actually smelled worse than he looked. With a lake at the edge of town, Aksel could not fathom why anyone would go more than a day or two without a bath. The little cleric steeled himself, and carried on. “My friend here has been poisoned, and is in need of a cure.” He nodded toward Ruka. “They told us at the church that you sold such potions.”
Philmar slowly set his mug down, a greedy twinkle in his dark eyes. “I do indeed, but they aren’t cheap.”
“How much?” Ruka demanded, stepping in front of Aksel and leaning over the table. The teenager’s eyes gleamed as much as Philmar’s at the prospect of bargaining.”
The vendor’s eyes narrowed as he appraised the young teen. “Well, little lady, let’s see…” He began ticking off on his fingers as he itemized the price. “There’s the cost of the ingredients, the magic required, the current market demand, and, of course, a restocking fee… let’s say”—he paused and pursed his lips together—“fifteen hundred gold pieces.”
Aksel’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the outrageous price.
“Fifteen hundred? That’s double the market price!”
The shady merchant shifted his gaze toward Aksel, a shrewd look upon his face. He sat back in his seat and gave a slight shrug, his hands going out to either side. His tone was as smooth as silk as he replied. “Well, that particular potion is currently in high demand, so the price has gone up.”
Ruka did not seem perturbed in the slightest by the blatant price-gouging. A thin smile crossed her lips as she shot back with a counter offer. “Eight hundred, in your hand right now.”
“Fourteen hundred,” Philmar countered in a casual tone, though his eyes were alit with the thrill of haggling.
“Nine hundred,” Ruka countered immediately, leaning in closer this time.
The enthralled pair went back and forth a few more times, finally settling on the midway sum of eleven hundred gold pieces. Ruka seemed rather pleased, although Aksel was not thrilled with the outcome. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “That’s still highway robbery.”
Ruka let out a soft snort. “Heh. I know, but I still want to leave first thing in the morning.”
Any further comments Aksel might have had were cut off as Philmar gulped down the rest of his ale, slammed the empty mug down, and rose from the table. He motioned toward Ruka and Aksel. “C’mon, follow me.” The seedy vendor shuffled his way toward the hall that led from the common room to the guest rooms on the first floor of the inn. “I keep the potions back in my room.”
Aksel raised an eyebrow, but followed Ruka, who had fallen in right behind Philmar. The potion vendor led them down the dimly-lit hall, and around a bend toward the back of the inn. He stopped at a door near the end of the hallway and slid in a key. The door unlocked with a soft click, and the shady vendor passed through the threshold, gesturing for the two of them to follow.
Aksel walked into what appeared to be a typical guestroom, if somewhat unkempt. There were clothes and various cases strewn all around the room. Philmar walked over to the bed and pushed it aside, revealing a trap door in the floor. The shabby merchant knelt and pulled it open, reached in, and pulled out a small box. He pushed some clothes out of the way, and placed the box on top of the unmade bed.
Philmar pulled a small key off his keychain and inserted it into the chest, turning it with a click. The box popped open—it was filled with numerous vials of liquid of a variety of colors. The seedy vendor rummaged through the vials, eventually picking out one containing a black liquid. He spun around and lifted it up for them to see. “Here it is.”
Aksel leaned forward and examined the vial closely. He peered at Ruka and nodded. “It’s the right color.”
Ruka reached out a hand for the vial, but Philmar swiftly pulled it away. “Ah, ah,” he said waving the index finger of his other hand back and forth, “the money first.”
“Fine!” Ruka exhaled with clear exasperation. She turned away from the shifty vendor and unbuttoned her tunic, reaching a hand inside. Aksel swiftly spun his head away, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. A soft chuckle made him inadvertently gaze back at Ruka. Thankfully, her tunic was closed once again, and in her hand she held a small purse.
Ruka undid the ties and dug her hand into it, pulling out a mass of platinum coins. She threw them out onto the bed in fistfuls of ten, until she reached a count of one hundred and ten. When she was done, she closed the purse and pulled the drawstrings tight. She fixed Philmar with an acid stare, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “There you go. Eleven hundred gold. May I have my potion now?”
Philmar’s eyes were glued to the coins on the bed. He absently held the potion out toward Ruka. “Absolutely…”
Ruka whipped the potion from his hand, unstopped the cork with a single thumb, and gave the contents a sniff. After a moment or two, she held it out for Aksel to smell. The little cleric leaned in and took a whiff. It had a very mild odor. He then dipped his finger in, pulling it back out with a drop of the tincture at the tip, and placed it in his mouth. The liquid had a gritty texture and tasted quite foul. Aksel let out a few coughs, then nodded. “Yup… that’s it… alright…”
Ruka gave him a curt smile, then downed the potion in one gulp. Almost immediately her breathing deepened and the full color returned to her skin. It a
ppeared that the potion had already worked, but a moment later a purplish glow encircled her body. Aksel felt the faint tingle of magic as well, but it faded away as swiftly as the glow.
The little cleric cocked his head to the side, his mouth twisting with it. The potion should not have had that effect on Ruka, let alone himself. Aksel cast a glance at Philmar—the shifty vendor swiftly tucked his hands behind his body, but it was too late—Aksel recognized what he had done.
He pointed at Philmar with an accusing cry. “He just tried to put us to sleep!”
Aksel could feel the electricity stir in the room as Ruka glared at the vendor. Flecks of yellow suddenly appeared in her otherwise emerald eyes, her pupils turning almost cat-like. The shady Philmar’s expression went from surprise to absolute fear. He scrambled back up onto the bed and grabbed a pillow, hugging it in front of him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Please don’t hurt me!”
Ruka took a step forward, her voice low and menacing. “What was that for?”
Philmar’s eyes went wide with fright. At some subconscious level, the sleazy vendor realized he had awoke a beast, and his life was in mortal danger. The hapless merchant stammered his reply. “I…I…I just wanted to see if…you were the chosen ones…you know…from the prophecy.”
A dreadful smile crossed Ruka’s lips. She reached out and placed a hand on Philmar’s chest, the vendor so frozen with fear that he could not move. Sparks flew from the young teen’s fingertips, sending electrical arcs across the merchant’s body. Philmar shook uncontrollably, his eyes going glassy, until Ruka finally stopped. The hapless vendor fell back on the bed, his body still jerking at odd moments.
Ruka stepped back and spoke, her tone exceedingly mocking. “Oh, my apologies. I was just checking to see if you were a chosen one. Guess not.”
Aksel strode forward and ran his hands over the prone vendor. He was out cold. Aksel stood up and peered at Ruka, with a tight-lipped smile. “Remind me to never tick you off.”
“Duly noted,” Ruka said over her shoulder. The young teen had taken the potion box, and was rummaging through it. A moment later, she withdrew another potion of the same black color that Philmar had sold them.
“What are you doing with that?” Aksel asked softly.
Ruka held out the vial toward Aksel. “He was going to rob us. Consider this compensation for our trouble.”
Aksel took the potion without further argument. Philmar had tried to charge them double for the first potion, and who knows what else he would have stolen from them if they had fallen under his spell. Meanwhile, Ruka had knelt next to the trap door. She beckoned for Aksel to join her. “Look at this…”
Aksel knelt next to her and peered into the hole. There was a small shelf on one side where Philmar must have stored his potions, and across from that stood the top of a ladder. Aksel followed it down with his eyes as far as he could see, until it disappeared below into utter darkness. He shifted his gaze to Ruka, the young teen staring intently down into the hole. “Can you see where it goes?
She glanced up at him, her eyes aflame with curiosity. “It ends about twenty feet down, at what appears to be some kind of tunnel.”
Aksel spiked an eyebrow. Why is there a tunnel underneath the inn? Is it Philmar’s doing? Aside from being a shady vendor, is he also a smuggler?
Ruka appeared torn. Aksel had to admit he was curious about the strange tunnel, but who knew how far it went? And they needed a good night’s rest if they were going straight back to the monolith in the morning. He said as much to Ruka, half expecting an argument, but the young teen surprised him, getting up and closing the trap door without another word. She strode over to the bedroom door, pulled it open, spun her head toward Aksel, and uttered a single word. “Coming?”
Aksel couldn’t help grinning at the young teen. She reminded him more and more of Seth with each passing minute.
The next morning, Aksel woke up to a commotion outside his window. His first thought was that Philmar had finally come to, and had roused the town guard. The little cleric rolled out of bed and hurried over to the window, but pulled up short, as a familiar form swung in from the outside.
Ruka fixed her eyes on him, her face red with anger. “That idiot, Calipherous! He can’t shapeshift, so instead he decides to land right smack in the middle of town.”
Aksel cocked his head to one side and scrunched his nose. “Calipherous? I thought you girls didn’t want to be seen by him? Last I remember, you jumped ship to avoid him.”
Instead of immediately answering, Ruka rushed past him and started gathering up her things. “Yeah, well… a lot has changed since then. I’ll explain later. Right now, get your stuff. We need to get down there before things get out of hand.”
Aksel didn’t have to be told twice. He spun on his heel and gathered his gear, throwing on his robe as they rushed out the door. Ruka practically vaulted down the stairs, then raced through the hall and the common room, bursting out of the front door of the inn in less than three minutes. Aksel slipped through the doorway just behind her, huffing as he tried to catch his breath.
A crowd had gathered in the courtyard of the inn, but it was not hard to see what they were gathered around. In the very center stood a copper dragon, covered from head to tail with warm reddish-brown scales, speckled here and there with small spots of blue.
Though not large by dragon standards, Calipherous still towered above the surrounding mob. Aksel swiftly scanned the crowd, but did not see any town guards yet. Ruka rushed forward, pushing her way through the throng, Aksel trailing right behind her. When they breached the inner circle, a familiar voice cried out, “Ruka!”
A little golden-haired girl, barely taller than Aksel, came rushing up to greet them, jumping straight into the young teen’s arms. It was Ruka’s little sister, Maya. The little girl hugged Ruka tight, all the while cooing, “We found you. We found you.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s nice to see you too,” Ruka responded, gently pulling the little girl’s arms from around her neck. She continued to carry her as she strode purposefully up to the tall dragon, with Aksel still in tow. Ruka stopped a few feet away from Calipherous, and spoke in a semi-hushed voice. “What are you two doing here? Are you crazy? Do you know how much attention you’re drawing?”
The young teen swept her eyes around the crowd—Aksel did the same. The throng, curious as they were, still gave the dragon a wide berth. Meanwhile, Calipherous seemed taken aback by Ruka’s admonishment. “Yes, well, um… when you told us you would be in Vermoorden, Maya just couldn’t wait. I tried to restrain her.”
Ruka shifted her gaze back toward the dragon, fixing him with a hard stare. “Next time try harder. We could have met outside of town and avoided all of this.” She nodded toward the growing crowd of townsfolk surrounding them.
Calipherous responded with a deep sigh. “Unfortunately, your sister is not that easy to rein in. Once she has her mind made up…”
Maya sat back up and grabbed Ruka on either side of her face, turning her head toward her. “But Ruka, we can’t find Ves!”
Can’t find Ves? Aksel’s brow furrowed, his gaze shifting from the little girl to Calipherous, then back again. Ves was Ruka’s and Maya’s older sister, the eldest of the three Greymantles.
The companions had first met the sisters on the beach at Cape Marlin, during their search for the disappearing ships. The eldest Greymantle sister was a very capable, strong-willed young woman, who, upon reflection, was in fact a huge bronze dragon. To hear that she had disappeared was troubling news indeed.
Maya’s eyes welled with tears as she buried her small head in Ruka’s shoulder. Ruka proceeded to pat the little girl gently on the back, and spoke to her in a reassuring tone. “Don’t worry, Ves can take care of herself.”
Despite her nonchalant attitude, Ruka’s eyes were filled with concern. As she continued to calm Maya down,
the young teen turned an eye toward Calipherous and mouthed the words, what happened?
Calipherous replied in a surprisingly soft voice for a dragon. “The Glittering Isles were attacked by a flight of chromatics.”
Ruka’s face twisted in shock. “What?”
Maya lifted her head back up, her tiny face streaked with tears. “Ves took off with the chromes chasing her, and we haven’t heard from her since!”
A flight of chromatic dragons? Aksel spiked an eyebrow. As far as he knew, there hadn’t been any confrontations between dragons since the Thrall Wars. So why would a group of chromatic dragons suddenly attack their metallic cousins?
He shifted his gaze back toward Calipherous when something caught his eye. A contingent of castle guards marched down the hill from the keep, armed to the teeth with spears and shields. Aksel peered at Calipherous and Ruka, and nodded toward the keep. “Um, guys… you might want to continue this conversation somewhere else.”
They both looked toward where he had indicated, then Ruka gazed back at Calipherous. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, you need to carry us out of here.”
Calipherous gave a slow nod of his large head. “Very well.”
The copper dragon lowered his body, allowing Ruka, Maya, and Aksel to climb up onto his back. The crowd backpedaled as the copper dragon unfolded its wings and gave them a few slow beats, stirring up a cloud of dirt in the surrounding courtyard.
Aksel swung his gaze toward the approaching guards as they slowly lifted off the ground. They were leaving none too soon—the contingent had just reached the main road, and would be in spear range in less than a minute.