Spellscribed: Provenance

by Kristopher Cruz

  He had been too distracted by his conversation with the Archmagus. It was such a momentous occasion, being able to speak with the most powerful man in the country next to the high king. He hadn’t been paying any attention to what was going on around him. Not only did they club him from behind hard enough that he was still seeing stars, they gagged him and stripped him down to his pants and shoes.

  They had taken his bracer and his spell book; He didn’t know where they were. He strongly hated losing that bracer, it was a valuable gift from his master. Well, the book was too, but the bracer was more like an inherited object passed down from master to apprentice, and he let it get stolen. Endrance tried his best to focus, but they had apparently some experience dealing with mages.

  He was tied horizontally to a pole like someone would spit a pig for roasting. His eyes were blindfolded, and they had a rather filthy tasting gag in his mouth. To top it all off, someone had taken string and tied his middle fingers together. It was for all intents and purposes impossible to cast any spells this way. He couldn’t say any words of power, form any mudras, or even aim a spell on a target. Kaelob had trained him so that he could still operate with any one of those conditions hampered, but not all three.

  And his head still hurt from being clubbed hard. He at first tried to talk his way out, but he was pretty sure all they heard was babble. Endrance flinched as the back of his head twinged, but could hardly move. He felt something warm trickling through his hair, but it took him a minute to realize he was bleeding.

  Time passed, and Endrance’s head cleared eventually. Though he had been unable to keep track of time when he was first assaulted, he could start doing so now. He knew he needed to take stock of the situation before he could decide on his next course of action. He strained against his ropes, trying to get free. They were tight, but not so tight as to cause constant pain. He noted that, but he didn’t know what he was tied to or what he was suspended over. It could be a few feet to the floor, or a bed of spikes twenty feet down.

  He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. The faint smell of oil was present over an almost overpowering scent of damp wood. Smoke, the kind that someone with a pipe would make, wafted through the air around him. He couldn’t isolate any other smells. Still, it gave him some idea of where he was.

  He could only pick up sounds of movement from somewhere above him, as well as the sounds of a muffled argument from somewhere nearby. It sounded heated, and he hoped that something would go in his favor soon.

  A door crashed open nearby and he twitched in his bounds, startled. The argument stopped, and Endrance could hear two sets of shoes walk over stone towards him.

  “Ah, I think his head’s a bit clearer now, wouldn’t you say?” A man’s voice said clearly. Unlike the ruffians who had clubbed him, this man sounded well educated enough to use a clear dialect. His voice was smooth, but had a shift in tone near the end of his statement that gave the young wizard the impression that he was amused.

  “Yeah.” A rougher voice replied. This was the man who had overseen his capture. A burly man with dark skin and dark hair, dressed in tattered clothes and a chain link shirt under his vest. He had a long knife, last Endrance had seen, and the man had it on hand constantly.

  “You see, dear boy.” The first voice started. “We here in my business had a… misunderstanding, you see?” the voice further explained. “We were just supposed to rob you blind, and toss you out to the cold streets, but it seems that one of my subordinates had an idea.”

  One set of shoes walked back and forth near Endrance’s side. This set was much lighter, and apparently very spry; the one walking would make little hop-step motions as he paced. “This is usually frowned upon, since we here are almost exclusively… how would you put it? Ah, opportunists of a material variety. We don’t normally trade in flesh and bone.”

  “But now that you’re here, we really don’t have much choice, now do we?” the voice asked. Endrance couldn’t respond even if he wanted. “So now we have all the unpleasantness of not only inconveniencing you, but also us.” The man sighed, stopping a good few feet from his comrade. “What do you think we should do?” He asked finally.

  “Sell him.” The second man replied. “Some people in the elf lands pay the wizard’s weight in gold for captives.”

  “Ah, but this one is so small,” The first responded instantly “he would hardly make us a profit. “Besides, how are you going to smuggle a wizard over two thousand miles into their territory? That itself is a risk to both us and the cargo.”

  The second grumbled but didn’t say anything else. The first man was quiet for a few seconds. When he spoke again, he was right next to Endrance’s head, which made him jerk in surprise. He had covered a dozen feet silently.

  “What about you, little mage?” he asked, his voice still amused. “We should ask the captive about his opinion, yes? Someone so young as this yet skilled enough to become a wizard must have some insight to the situation.”

  Endrance felt something cold and sharp press against his neck, crossing from one side to the other. The edge felt wavy under his throat.

  “Now, I’m going to take your gag out. This knife is very, very sharp, so try any magic on us and you’ll be bleeding out before you can finish.” The first man said.

  Endrance felt strong hands untie the gag, and he gasped for a clear breath as soon as his mouth was clear. He felt the sting of the knife blade, and a faint trickle of blood seeped from under its edge. It was indeed very sharp.

  “Thanks.” Endrance began. “I am of a personal opinion that you have your guys drag me back to where you found me and let me go. I mean I haven’t seen any of you but ugly over there and I was unconscious for the trip here, so I don’t know who any of you are much less where I am. It would save both of us a lot of trouble.”

  The first man laughed heartily, his hand still rock steady at the knife. The second man took a step towards Endrance, but he couldn’t tell if the man had done anything else.

  “Well well,” the first said approvingly. “You still have a sense of humor, even in all this trouble?”

  “I am not sure about humor sir.” Endrance responded. “He is ugly.”

  “That he is… that he is.” The first man said after a moment. He may have been waving the other man back; Endrance had no ability to tell other than a rustle of cloth. “Unfortunately we have a policy here in my band of brothers, we really aren’t in the business of catch and release, you know?”

  Endrance was running out of things he could think to leverage his way out of here. “Well, was it policy to change the plan to kidnap me instead?” He asked.

  “Good point. A well made one.” The first man replied. “But what’s done is done, and we have to focus on the now.”

  Endrance licked his lips. Maybe now he could explain what he was trying to say before. “Well there is one last thing.”

  “Oh?” the first man said. “Do tell.”

  “I am here in Ironsoul on business. I’m supposed to be meeting a barbarian sometime today.” Endrance began. “I was on my way to meet him when you guys waylaid me.”

  “A barbarian you say?” the man said, his amusement evident in his voice. “Why that’s a pretty strange fabrication. I’ve heard some pretty amazing lies in my time but-”

  “It’s not lie!” Endrance exclaimed forcefully, hoping he hadn’t just filleted his throat in the process. He didn’t suddenly bleed out so he continued. “I’m supposed to be replacing the current Spengur of Balator, and he’s supposed to escort me there. He’s probably really angry that I haven’t shown up, and if he finds you guys…” Endrance trailed off, at a loss for words.

  “Ah, this is the same bullshit story he tried giving when we found ‘em.” The second man said angrily. “It’s nothing but a child’s fantasy.”

  “Well that would definitely be something to be concerned about.” The first replied, either ignoring the man or taking his word into account. “But that would require h
im to first know you were kidnapped, and secondly find where we’re holding you.”

  Endrance sighed. “Well then I’ve got nothing.”

  “Fair enough. Do you want to try to plead for your life or something?” the first man asked.

  “No.” Endrance replied. “I’m sure that won’t really help here, and I should conserve my strength.”

  The man sounded impressed. “Smart move. You might be able to trick one of your buyers into giving you enough freedom to blast them to pieces that way. You’re a good strategist, and so young.”

  “And that’s okay with you?” Endrance asked.

  “Oh yes.” The man replied. “I don’t really care what happens to the client after the job is done, so it’s no skin off my nose. Besides… I kind of like you. Maybe if things had been different we could have been friends even.”

  “You do sound like a decent enough sort.” Endrance responded. “My name’s Endrance.”

  The man was quiet for a moment, but the knife came away from his neck. “Zadrah.” Was all the man said before stuffing the gag back in his mouth and tying it.

  “Now you just stay right here while I see if there are any local buyers in the market for someone like you.” He said before walking audibly out of the room and closing the door.

  Endrance was left alone in the room with the man who had assaulted him to begin with. He heard the man chuckling as he approached, his footsteps heavy and intentional. The man reeked of sweat, steel, and alcohol.

  “Well well well… Ugly, you say?” the man grumbled. “Let’s see who’s ugly after I carve up that pretty girl’s face of yours.”

  Despite the terror, despite the impending mutilation, Endrance could not help but roll his eyes. Again? Maybe people would stop thinking he was a girl after this thug sliced up his face. Then again, if he got out of this he would rather just cut his hair or something less permanently damaging.

  The distinctive sound of a blade being drawn from its scabbard echoed through the air.

  Chapter 15

  The exterior of the warehouse that the thieves were holding Endrance was one of many built almost exactly the same. It was about two and a half stories tall, with rough, pitted gray stone walls with a dozen feet of open space separating its walls from the road. Like the rest of Ironsoul, the place was disturbingly clean of litter or debris. Joven had thought that the criminal controlled areas of the city would be… dirtier. At least the people around the warehouse fit his impression. Grungy, disheveled thugs socialized in small groups around the warehouse, some of them throwing dice and betting coins. They had a way of paying attention to anyone who came too close to the building, so the barbarian remained a discrete distance away and around a corner.

  Joven’s powerful muscles tensed as he considered his options. The warehouse building was well guarded by the same sort of men that he’d dealt with earlier. He counted maybe twelve men outside the building who were trying to appear inconspicuously minding their own business. He was certain there would be more inside. Unlike many of the men he’d fought before, these were likely inclined to use agile fighting tactics and swarm him if he just waded into them. While he wasn’t particularly against such a challenge, he didn’t know how many men he would have to deal with inside.

  A small bit of luck came to him. As he observed their movements a man came out of the warehouse. He wore a red coat and altogether looked to be much more refined than the men around him. Joven at first thought him a client perhaps, but when the men all gave him covert nods of respect as he walked off whistling, he knew the guy must have been a superior. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that one yet.

  He also had several of his weapons tied off with ribbon. While that itself couldn’t even hinder him actually drawing any of his weapons, it did represent a promise he had made. He quickly checked himself over for weapons he didn’t have tied off. He came up with two boot knives, a sap, a pair of spiked iron knuckles, and the finger thin blades hidden in the leather plates of his bracers. All light weaponry.

  Joven replaced all the weapons except the spiked knuckles, and put those on with a sigh. They were only a pair of bars with thin steel crossbars separating sections he could fit his fingers through, with inch long sharpened spikes along one bar. It was a challenge true, but still it could be worse: It could have been boring. He would rather take on twelve men with his fists than have been genuinely bored this whole trip. At least the new Spengur was already making things interesting. If this was going to be any indication of fate, he was going to enjoy the next few years working for him.

  The first few men who had looked as if they were sharing a pipe of pungent smelling smoke immediately noticed the barbarian walking towards them. The first stepped forward to try to steer him off while the other two flanked him on either side. They had their hands on the hilts of their knives, and the first actually drew a long blade and brandished it as he came to a stop in front of Joven.

  “You better get the hell out of here, barbarian!” The man sneered, showing more than one rotten tooth in the process. The reek of alcohol and pipe weed was strong but not enough to make Joven slow.

  Joven pulled a fist back and let fly a powerful blow without responding. The inch long metal spikes on the iron bar across his knuckles tore into the man’s face and punched into bone beyond as the force of his blow swatted him to the floor faster than if the man had fallen. Blood and shattered, rotten teeth sprayed into the air before the target’s two comrades as they watched the sudden brutality in shock.

  “Can’t.” Joven replied as the unconscious or dead body bounced upon the stones. “You got something of mine.”

  The men started pulling on their knives, trying to bring them to bear on him. It was too late. He continued walking swiftly forward, throwing his arms around their necks as he clotheslined the two of them. Caught in the pinch of his powerful forearms and biceps, Joven grunted with effort as he rolled his shoulders and sharply lifted his forearms up. The move levered their heads forward at a sharp angle, and a faint crunch told Joven to let them go.

  He continued on past as the two sank to the ground, as limp as wet rags. The other groups hadn’t even heard the assault happen; the three didn’t have the time or capacity to shout in alarm. He rounded on the five rolling the bones, knowing that the four at the far side of the warehouse would take time to get to him.

  As he was within a few strides of them, one of the men stooped to pick up the dice and noticed the three bodies on the floor behind Joven. He barely had a chance to cry out before the barbarian was among them. Joven’s fists lashed out powerfully, his face a steely visage of brutal efficiency. Two men who had their backs to him were down in an instant, the backs of their heads staved in. The first one to draw a blade was the one who had seen him coming, and Joven caught his blade wielding arm in one fist as the man swung at him in panic. He levered the man between him and one opponent by his captured arm, and backhanded the other as he charged in, the spikes leaving bloody furrows across his face.

  That man’s screams alerted the four across the warehouse lot more effectively than the initial shout had. Joven could hear their shouting and the sounds of weapons being drawn. He grinned as the battle started warming up. This was the entertainment he had been hoping for!

  He twisted his grip on the first man’s arm, flipping him onto his back without letting go. He yanked sharply as he stepped over him; a dull pop indicated he had successfully wrenched the man’s arm out of its socket. He wouldn’t be a threat soon enough to be trouble. The third man jumped at him, bringing the curved dagger down at Joven with a two-handed grip.

  Joven thrust a powerfully muscled leg out, catching the man in the chest area with his boot. He heard bones crack as the man reversed direction mid-air and crashed to the ground several feet away. The barbarian whirled, swinging with his fist with all his might as the second had recovered enough from the injury to his face to try to attack. The blow caught him in the meat of his neck, and he went down
in a gurgling spurt of blood.

  The four remaining charged in to him. Apparently they had been concealing better weaponry than their comrades, as two of them had sickles and the other two short swords. Joven lunged forward into their midst, letting his actions without apparent concern for his own well being confuse them.

  He kicked out and got one of the swordsmen in the knee with a strong side kick, splintering bone and dropping the white-faced man to his knees. He twisted with a blow struck by the other swordsman, and the otherwise dangerous strike gouged a long scratch in the hardened leather, but did no more. The two sickle wielders swung in tandem, trying to cut him off at the knees. Joven skipped back, easily avoiding the sloppy swings. He nearly burst out laughing as the two recoiled from their swings, nearly hitting each other as their failed attacks overextended into each other’s space.

  The first swordsman lunged forward to skewer Joven, and the big man stepped far enough to the side to let the sword slip past him. As he did so he jabbed the man in the leading shoulder twice with swift rabbit punches, letting the spikes on his knuckles do most of the damage. The man cried out in pain and his sword arm lowered despite his attempts to keep his blade up. The third quick blow to his face blinded him and he dropped, not dead, but likely miserable for a very, very long time.

  The other one swung his weapon hard enough and with enough accuracy that Joven had to juke out of the way. As the man recovered from his swing Joven caught both his forearm and shoulder. A quick pull snapped the man’s elbow and he howled in pain briefly before Joven hit him in the side of the head hard. As the body dropped to the floor Joven plucked the short sword out of its nerveless fingers.

  He leapt forwards without looking behind him, rolling roughly across the stone as the two attacked him in tandem again, this time from differing angles. As the swings cut through the air he had previously occupied, he hurled the short sword at the one on his left. The man dropped to the ground and avoided all but a shallow slice across his back.