Only a few inches taller but exceptionally well muscled, the man wore only a pair of snug leather pants, boots, and buckled belt. He wore around his neck a leather cord holding a triangular tooth, and on each hand was a gold ring set with rare stones. His skin was tanned and his head completely bald, including his brow. The man’s eyes were a bright and almost luminous orange, a similarity shared in Endrance’s green.
What was most peculiar about the man was that every visible inch of the man’s skin was covered in tattoos. Black lines tracing his meridians were twisted into dozens of spell forms and arcane patterns. Even the smooth pate of his head, his eyelids, ears, and lips were not spared from the ink.
Endrance stared. The man in response passively watched the young mage as if his reaction were business as usual. At a minutes passing, he cleared his throat, and Endrance snapped out of his distraction.
“You know,” the man said, sounding deliberately bored. “If you keep staring I’m going to start charging you.”
Endrance pushed an errant lock of silvered hair behind his ear. “I’m… sorry.” He managed to say nervously.
Before he could lower his hand from his head, the man darted up to him and caught his wrist. He had moved so swiftly that he had no time to react. When his hand touched him, Endrance’s senses flared white-hot. The man had exponentially larger reserves of power than the young mage, but it was so well contained and under such strong control that he wouldn’t have been able to sense his power normally. It felt to him like a band of molten power had clamped down on his wrist.
The man hardly reacted to the moment, if at all. He merely pulled Endrance’s hand out before the two of them. He examined the jagged lightning marks on the boy’s fore and middle fingers, appraising it with a firm but gentle grip that felt like iron to the young mage.
“Well, that’s astounding.” He said at last. He released Endrance’s wrist, who rubbed it while flexing his fingers. “Your foundation is impeccable, but you’ve built nothing upon it. Are you intending on squandering such an effective technique?”
Endrance frowned as he looked at his fingers. “What?”
The tattooed man sighed. “Your scribing.”
Endrance looked at the bizarre man, the confusion on his face telling him what he needed to know.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about, are you?” he asked, flustered.
“Uh… No, sir.” Endrance responded. “I’m sorry.”
The man sighed, wiping the palm of his hand across his bald head just like a man would sweep his hair back from his eyes.
“I find that hard to believe.” He started. “I’m sure you would remember the extensive and may I add intensely painful experience of getting scribed.”
Endrance waggled the two fingers. “Oh, well these hurt when it happened, but I’ve had these marks since I was a babe.”
The tattooed man’s eyes brightened. “Ah, well that is a cruel but effective way of doing it.” He paused thoughtfully. “And efficient too. Use far less ink.”
“What are you talking about?” Endrance asked, his frustration rising.
“Do you even have any training?” The man pressed, seeming concerned. “Who is your master?”
“Yes of course I was trained!” Endrance exclaimed. “Master Kaelob has recognized me as a wizard himself just this season!”
The man blinked at the young man, stunned. “I’m sorry… but did you say Kaelob trained you?” He asked. “You are aware he’s retired right?”
Endrance nearly shouted “Yes! He retired in the village I was born in!” He didn’t know why, but his emotions were flaring up. Perhaps he was feeling defensive trying to justify his existence to someone with far more power than he had.
“Fine. I’ll believe it for now. Kaelob never studied many sigils beyond the basics, so I’m not surprised he didn’t think much of them.” He looked Endrance over head to toe. “Well, they’re pretty well hidden.”
“Who… who are you?” Endrance finally asked.
The man shrugged. “I’ve earned many titles in my time, but a fellow wizard can just call me Talos.”
“T-Talos!” Endrance stammered. “I’m sorry!” He exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “I didn’t think-”
“What?” he responded “That I wouldn’t answer the door when a fellow magic user comes along? We’re not so common that I have to turn even new wizards away.” He shrugged. “Besides, your aura was just asking me to come take a closer look.”
Endrance smiled in relief. “Thank you for coming down and meeting with me.”
“Of course, young one.” Talos said kindly. “Now, wouldn’t you rather continue this conversation inside?”
“Of course!” Endrance said happily.
Talos waited, watching him.
“…What?” the young wizard finally asked.
Talos gestured to the door. “Well, open it. I assure you it’s unlocked.” Even a newly appointed wizard could open a door.”
Endrance turned back to the golden dome jutting from the wall. He reached out and touched it, pondering its nature.
Talos watched the boy work the relatively simple puzzle. He only pushed lightly on it. He examined its surface and the gold detailed frame the dome was set in. The kid had a light hearted attitude that might waver against opposition, but here his intellect brought his focus into one of the sharpest Talos had seen in a long time. Several times he watched him tuck an errant lock of hair behind his ear, a move that reminded him of someone he used to look up to. In fact, something about his eyes…
“Aha!” Endrance exclaimed, reaching out with both hands and pulling the domed surface to the side. Like a ball rotating on its point it rotated silently, until a passage rotated into view and locked in place.
“Very good!” Talos said, patting him on the shoulder as he entered. “You’ve opened a door.”
Endrance hurried to follow the Archmagus inside.
Chapter 13
Joven stared at the magistrate, unable to keep his irritation off his face. Not only did the city watch waste his time with questions, they held him there until this magistrate showed up. Easily two feet shorter than him, and almost half across, Joven could hardly believe that this man was in a position of authority. He had an overbite so severe that he looked like a bulb was growing out of his shoulders rather than a head sitting on a neck. To top it all off, the man repeated every question he asked more than once.
He was trying his best to be patient, but if the man asked any more of the same questions Joven wasn’t sure he would remain calm. This would be a problem if he had to search for his charge while being pursued by city watch for strangling this man. He was tempted though.
“So let me be absolutely sure here.” The magistrate said for what must have been the third time. Joven took a deep breath and tried very hard not to scowl.
“I don’t understand what is the problem.” Joven interrupted. “I buy drink. Man taunts me. I ignore man. Man swings at me. I bust his head.” He shrugged. “Simple.”
The magistrate huffed, squaring his almost nonexistent jaw. “The problem is that I question the validity of such a claim. You had to have struck first.”
Now Joven scowled. “No, if I had hit the man first I would have said so. Are you questioning my honor?” he responded, his voice seething with growing anger. It was getting harder to keep his hands off the man’s scrawny neck. “I waited until the other man swung at me first.” He took another calming breath that didn’t do much to soothe his mood. “I was being diplomatic.”
“Diplomatic is a pretty large word for a barbarian like you to be using.” The magistrate quipped. “Do you even know what it means?”
Joven replied through gritted teeth. “Yes.” He grated. “You let the other guy swing first.” He responded. “Now, can I go?”
“There’s still reason to doubt that claim.” The magistrate countered. “There is no way that you could best three men-“
“Five men.” Jove
n and the barkeep corrected at once for the third time.
“Five men when they attacked first and you didn’t suffer a scratch.” The magistrate finished.
Joven leaned in, putting his face more or less on the level with the irritating official. “Do you know at what age we ‘barbarians’ start learning how to fight?” he growled.
The magistrate then became acutely aware of the copious amount of fine scars interspersed across his face and hands. “…No?” he answered quietly.
“Well, our people start officially fighting when we’re five. They don’t let us use weapons yet, because we would kill each other before we knew how to use them properly. So for five years we learn to fight with our bodies. Only when we have grown strong and wise to battle do they teach us how to use weapons.” He held up a finger that had more nearly invisible scars on it than the magistrate had over his whole body. “But even then we don’t get to have our own weapons until make our first kill.”
The magistrate took an involuntary step back. “I…” he tried to start.
“Only then can you be considered a man. I’ve been fighting ‘men’ my size since before I was your size. So when I say I bested five of your ‘men’, I mean it.” He finished gravely.
The magistrate couldn’t reply, instead he only stared at the barbarian, transfixed by fear or possibly his breath. Joven realized that he may have over done himself, so he smiled broadly as he straightened out.
“Besides!” he exclaimed. “They were all drunk. It was hardly a fair fight.”
The magistrate let out a breath he had been holding in. “Yes… I suppose I can see what you mean. Your kind does seem to live up to their legends.”
“You have legends about us?” Joven asked. He shook his head. “Nevermind. Can I go now?”
The magistrate surveyed the scene, his gaze reluctantly drifting back to the barbarian. “I see that all of this has been sorted out. You may go.”
Finally. Joven put a silver piece on the bar and walked out into the street without any further words. By the movement of the suns Joven knew that the magistrate had wasted almost an hour of his time. The young man was long gone.
He sighed, heading off in the direction that he had seen him go before. He knew how to track prey, but this might be different. Of course, at least the other prey on this game trail could give him directions. It shouldn’t take too long.
Hours later, Joven found himself standing at the base of the largest tower in the city. It was large, but Joven thought it only made itself a more appealing target during a siege. Catapults could knock it down from almost any direction. He would have to wonder why it hadn’t been done before later. The witnesses he questioned directed him here, but upon arrival he found no sign of his charge, much less a method to enter the tower and search it. There was a dome of gold where the door should be. Perhaps it was locked.
Joven growled in frustration, but set about searching for someone nearby that could tell him how to get in.
As he exited the courtyard, he caught a bit of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned and saw the heel of a boot and the tails of a coat disappear around a corner. “Aha!” Joven shouted, barreling down the lane and turning into the alleyway.
The three men he charged onto looked up in surprise. They were struggling with a small burlap sack between the three of them as they trotted down the alley, and were caught off guard when he rounded the corner.
The men looked reasonably clean, but had a disheveled look about them, and their clothes were tattered and worn pieces of the everyday clothes Joven had seen many men wearing all over the city. Their faces were sweaty and smudged with grime.
“Now what?” One of the men squeaked out, his face bunched up in a way that reminded Joven of a rat. “Oh gods, he wasn’t lying! Run!” he shouted, and the three bolted down the alley away from him. Joven didn’t understand what they meant, but he knew a thief when he caught one in the act. He charged after them.
The three were agile and quick on their feet, and had much less mass than the barbarian. They were starting to outdistance him. He grunted as he rushed out into the main street, looking for the men. Joven caught sight of the rat-man, who ducked into an alley across the thoroughfare. He saw the bag gripped frightfully in his hands. That was enough for the Barbarian to choose his target.
Joven ran through the crowd of people, pushing and shoving as he barreled through them. One of the other men he had chased appeared in front of him in the crowd, lunging at him with a long dagger. Joven lunged forward as well, reaching out with his hand and catching the man in the neck as he didn’t even slow his pace. The dagger glanced off the hardened leather of his breastplate harmlessly. The impact of Joven’s hand against the thug’s throat kicked his feet out from under him and sent the dagger skittering across the street, his grip going nerveless before he could halt his thrust. Joven kept running, carrying the man in front of him with one arm.
As he entered the alley he saw rat-face waiting. He looked surprised that their ambush had failed and turned to flee again. Joven roared in effort as the muscles in his arm bulged. He wound up and threw his captive at the fleeing thief. The man sailed ungracefully for a dozen feet, bounced off the stones, and tangled up the running man’s legs, sending him spilling to the floor. Whatever the object in the sack was, it clattered to the stone like metal.
The first man groaned and remained blissfully unconscious. Rat-face had only cracked his pronounced face against the stone and smashed his nose, perhaps broke a tooth. Blood poured from his broken nose as he tried to pull himself up, his breath ragged and gurgling with blood. From behind him, he heard someone scream wordlessly, having seen him hurl a man down an alley like one would a straw scarecrow.
Joven walked up to the two, ignoring the calls crying for the watch spouting from the people in the street behind him. He reached down and picked up the rat faced man as well as his stolen prize, hauling him up as he continued walking down the alley. The thief that had smartly hidden instead of trying to take the barbarian on slunk out of the shadows to haul his unconscious comrade off before the watch could come collect.
Now several twists and turns of the alleys away from the initial scene, Joven held the man against a wall with one hand. His feet dangled as he weakly kicked, trying to keep breath in his lungs.
“Now,” Joven began. “What did you mean by ‘he wasn’t lying’.”
Joven didn’t relax his grip for a second, letting him squirm. Finally he could draw a full breath. The rat faced man gasped a few quick breaths before blurting out. “Ah dunno whut yer talking bout!”
Joven hooked the sack onto the pommel of one of his daggers. He took his now empty hand and slowly balled it into a fist in front of Rat-face. “What?” he said. “I didn’t hear you. Let me knock some of that blood out of your nose. Might make more sense then.”
Rat-face’s eyes widened in fright. “A’ight, a’ight!” he called out, his speech slurred from both poor education and poor air circulation. “We been giv’n a job. ‘sall! We wus s’posed ta mess wit dis kid, but afta we sacked him we saw he wus a mage. He wus spoutin sometin’ about a barbarian who wus s’posed to meet him, but we thought he wus bluffing.” The man tried to shake his head, both his hands wrapped around Joven’s wrist to keep him from strangling to death before the barbarian let him go. “We dunno dat he wus a mage b’fore. Den we ‘ad dis idea. We keep ‘im fer ransom den sell ‘is stuff.”
Joven shuddered, his already mounting frustration and irritation blossoming into rage. “Where is he!” he bellowed, smashing his fist into the brick next to Rat-face. Dust and shattered mortar burst out, causing the thief to flinch. The brick itself was not broken, but it had shifted an inch deeper into the wall.
“A’ight!” he squealed. “Da otha men took ‘im to da storin’ place. Dat’s where Zadrah woulda put ‘im.”
Joven turned away, dashing the sniveling man to the ground. He opened the sack and looked through its contents. “This is it?” J
oven asked. “This is what made you want to risk kidnapping him?”
The rat faced thief spit out a mouthful of blood. “It’s really shiny, y’know?” he muttered. “It gotta be worth something.”
“Which way.” Joven said evenly. It wasn’t a question.
“South-west of here.” The thief responded, broken. “It’s da biggest buildin’ ah reckon’s in da district.”
Joven turned and stalked off, avoiding the sound of the booted feet searching the alleys. Rat face shook his head and blew clotted blood out of his nose, crawling on his hands and knees. He was too dizzy to stand yet. If he hurried, he could take a back way to the building and warn them before the barbarian ruined the deal.
He had scrambled only a few feet when he came up to a pair of shapely black leather boots. He saw dull steel skull buckles before he felt something cold and sharp whip around his neck. He tried to grab it and give him room to breathe, but his fingers were sliced so easily by the metal garrote.
“No no no…” A familiar dusky voice whispered. “That was hardly professional, now was it?”
Rat face scrabbled with bleeding fingers, but couldn’t do anything to prolong his life. “I said inconvenienced, not dead. And we both know what your guild does with hostages.” She whispered. “But I suppose the barbarian coming to the rescue does well enough to suit my purpose.”
The Sha’hdi flicked her wrist, and the razor wired garrote snaked across his neck as it retracted. Blood blossomed across the alley stones. The wires instantly spun silently back into the thin hoop bracelet around her wrist. The wire cap fell into its place with a barely audible ‘click’.
Scant moments later, the city watch discovered the still warm body of Rat-face. The word got out there was a killer loose in the city.
Chapter 14
Endrance supposed that getting kidnapped by thieves was at least mildly embarrassing. It was especially embarrassing for a wizard capable of taking out a band of goblins. If he could fight a creature of darkness and evil in its home ground, he should be able to fight off some thieves, right?
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