Spellscribed: Provenance

by Kristopher Cruz

  That told Endrance all he needed to know about them for now. The three of them crept cautiously down the hall to the next door. The door was closed but not locked. Joven carefully pulled the latch on the door, and swung it open, the longsword in his hand ready to chop down the first thing to come at him. The room beyond was dark, but the lantern light from the hall illuminated the dim room enough that Joven could see that no men waited on the other side.

  “There is no one here.” He stated.

  Endrance looked around the hall before entering the room. Inside he could see that there were only a few chests, a table and a pair of weapon racks. Almost the entirety of both racks of weapons contained Joven’s equipment, the black steel blade of his greatsword glittered faintly in the light from the hall.

  Valzoa went directly to the weapon racks and withdrew the only weapon that was not the barbarians. He held up a beautifully crafted rapier in its scabbard. A pearl handle designed to perfectly fit his hand, and fine gold and silver basket guard in the design of two beauteous sylphs entwined with each other as wind and leaves danced around them. The scabbard was a pure white wood with silver and gold detail following the same theme. A thumbnail-sized diamond was held between the sylphs, and many smaller gemstones were set along the scabbard. A sapphire the size of a robin’s egg was set in the pommel.

  He drew the first few inches of the blade from the scabbard, and the blade slid clear silently. The thin blade of metal was milky white, and gleamed brightly in the dark. Endrance could feel the trickle of magic coming off the unsheathed edge for the moment before Valzoa closed it and reattached the scabbard to his hip.

  “That is a very valuable weapon.” Endrance commented.

  “Indeed.” Valzoa admitted. “It is called ‘The Dancing Lovers’ in our language. One of five enchanted blades, each of a different element.”

  “Five?” Endrance asked. Joven had almost finished adding the weapons back to his person and strapping back on his armor that had been dumped in one of the chests. The barbarian handed the bracer and his pack to the mage, and Endrance checked through everything while the elf explained.

  “The five elements? Wind, Water, Earth, Flame, and Life?” Valzoa asked. “They should have been part of your education as a mage.”

  Endrance clasped the bracer back on his arm, the familiar warmth of its presence comforting. “We are taught that there are only the first four.”

  Valzoa’s mouth ticked into a momentary frown. “And yet again I am reminded in the flaws in your people’s teachings. Life is an elemental force, as strong as the others, and sometimes stronger.”

  Endrance made sure he had the rest of his things before turning back. “I’ll have to read up on that some other time, but at the moment we need to get out of here alive.”

  “Agreed.” Valzoa seconded. Joven rolled his eyes and moved out into the hall, tossing the longsword back with the dead men and drawing his more familiar battle axe instead.

  “We need to stick close and move quickly.” Joven stated. “Stay right behind me and keep your eyes out for this assassin.”

  “You know the way out?” Endrance asked.

  “Counted the steps.” Joven stated. “I should be able to get us back up to the ground floor.”

  Valzoa stood in the back seemingly at ease, but his hand never left the handle of his rapier. The three moved down the hall, and Joven invariably led them to the steps up. The trip was quick, and they did not find another person nearby, nor any sign of them having been in the immediate vicinity.

  They ascended the stairs cautiously in the dark. No one stepped out to challenge them; no blades came out of the dark to strike at them. They emerged in the better lit main halls, and found nothing out of sort, except that the hall was empty.

  “Do you think they killed everyone?” Endrance asked.

  “They?” Valzoa countered. “If it is a Poison Blade, then one would be all that is needed.”

  “That can’t be possible; this place had easily forty men!” Endrance exclaimed.

  “Forty men who didn’t know she was coming.” Valzoa stated calmly, his eyes peering into the shadows. “It might as well have been a single person. The thought they had the assassin resting in their dungeon, and let their guard down. What I’m trying to figure out is why she had slain the two outside our door but left us alone and alive.”

  “A good question.” Joven interrupted. “Let’s think about it later!” He waved them on angrily. “The lot of you would rather think this thing over instead of do something to save your lives.” He muttered as he stalked ahead towards the doors to the courtyard. Endrance looked at Valzoa and shrugged. The man had a point.

  They crossed several closed doors, but heard no activity. Several of the lanterns that hung at the intersections had been extinguished or were missing entirely. They found no signs of activity until the three made it out into the courtyard.

  Snow drifted through the air, but there was no real snowfall to speak of. Scattered through the courtyard were at least a dozen unmoving forms on the snow. Joven and Valzoa took up defensive positions as Endrance brushed the snow off of one of the fallen men. He cleared the snow from the face of the soldier, and immediately saw the puff of fog coming from his mouth.

  “They’re alive!” he exclaimed, examining the body. “Unconscious, I think. Asleep.”

  “Good.” Joven reported. “Let’s see if our horses fared better.”

  “This is where we’re going to part ways, my friends.” Valzoa responded. “Go and get your horses and get out of here. I will take my leave through other methods.”

  “But how will you escape if you can’t move quickly?” Endrance shouted looking back as he and the barbarian ran towards the stables.

  “I hold the Dancing Lovers; their element of winds is more than just a sharp edge or quickened blade.” Valzoa declared, drawing his blade. Even several yards away, Endrance could feel the aura of magic on the fully unsheathed rapier. He turned from the elf and followed Joven into the stables.

  Valzoa closed his eyes and concentrated as he heard the two mount their steeds and guide them out of the fort’s gates. He listened as the sounds of their horses faded off beyond the reach of even his enhanced hearing. He took a deep breath, and turned to a dark recess in the fort walls.

  “I know you are there, Sha’hdi, you might as well give up the charade.” He said aloud. His weapon held lightly yet ready in his gloved hand.

  The shadows seemed to peel away from the assassin as she confidently strode out of the dark and into the open air. Casually she walked over the unconscious men with predatory grace and a lithe gait. Valzoa raised an eyebrow, but otherwise gave no indication of surprise. The Sha’hdi spread her empty hands at her sides and smiled broadly.

  “You caught me, lord Alastrel.” She said, sounding flirtatious. “Now what will you do with me?”

  “Hmm… you seem to be aware of my identity, but alas, I do not know the pleasure of what beauty it is that’s trying to end me.” He returned coyly.

  “You can call me Jalyin, of house of blades.” She purred, walking in a loose circle around him, her hands gliding across her white leather armor seductively. “And I have no interest in your life, lord. In fact, I find you being alive to be much more pleasing to me.”

  “So it was not I you were after.” He said.

  “No, unfortunately.” She responded with a wink. “A shame; you would have been a challenge to bring down.”

  “So is it the boy or the man you were after?” he asked.

  Jalyin chided him, waggling a finger. “Now now, that wouldn’t do to break my solemn oath to the Poison Blades, even for such a handsome stranger as you.”

  “So you think I’m handsome, huh?” he quipped. “Well since you are a Poison Blade…”

  “Yes.” She responded.

  “And I am technically a lord of Salthimere.” He continued.

  “Do go on.” She prodded.

  “Then I would offer to pay off t
his bounty you have.” He concluded. “You see, I had come to like that young man, and would hate to see him fall so soon in his career.”

  Jalyin exaggerated a frown, still stalking around him. “I’m so sorry, my lord.” She began. “But you should know that once we have taken a job, we finish it.”

  “Unless you are slain or your employer is no more.” Valzoa responded.

  “I don’t think even the inheritor of the largest banking clan in all of Salthimere has the reach to even touch my employer.” The Sha’hdi observed, taking a step backwards as she spoke. “And I do not believe that trying to slay me now would be any more fruitful.”

  Valzoa studied her in silence for several seconds. The two locked gazes upon the other, and for moments that felt like hours, they studied the other’s eyes. Valzoa broke the stare at last, shifting his weight and shrugging.

  “That would be true, Jalyin.” He concluded, flicking the tip of his rapier as he kept his arm limber. “It would be a shame to render such beauty asunder. And perhaps there is a solution that can at least help assuage my desire to assist them.”

  “Oh really?” she said. “So you think I’m beautiful, huh?” she returned. “And what solution would you offer then?”

  “I cannot pay you to cancel your contract,” Valzoa admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t pay you to… delay a few days. Give them a sporting chance.”

  She smirked. “Ah, that would not be against my contract, since the details of my task are at my discretion.”

  “And that way I get to live, you get to live, and at least for a while longer, they get to live.” He concluded. “Does that sound agreeable?”

  “Agreeable enough.” She accepted.

  Valzoa used his free hand and disconnected a thick, bulging money pouch from his belt and tossed it to her. The assassin caught it with one hand. Her eyes never left him as her nimble hands swiftly opened the bag and felt their way through the pouch. She withdrew a few of the coins and held them out where she could see. The coins were two inch diameter electrum coins, with the engraving of House Alastrel’s Treasury upon the faces. A small six sided ruby was set in the center of each coin.

  “This is quite the amount.” She acknowledged. “Are you sure the child is worth it?”

  “Every day I purchase here is another day he has to become stronger.” He stated. “And perhaps if he lives long enough, he would be able to save himself from you.”

  She gauged the weight of the bag, and the value of the coins. “Each of these is worth a few hundred pieces of gold.”

  “And there are twenty five of them in the purse.” He said.

  She tucked the coins back in the bag and attached it to her belt. “You have a deal. This is enough to distract me for some time, but not forever. I am paid more than this for the job.”

  “How long have I bought him?” he asked.

  She considered. “I would ordinarily say three weeks, but since you’ve been such a fine elf to chat with, I’ll make it a month, human days.”

  Valzoa nodded. “Then I will take my leave. Though beware; if I find that you broke my agreement-“

  “Do not worry about such things!” she interrupted. “I am a Poison Blade. We never violate a business agreement once we have been paid.”

  “I have the ears of several in the king’s court.” Valzoa said, his voice more cheerful than threatening. “I would hate to have to report… poor job performance.”

  “One month.” She whispered, already regretting making the small concession she did. “As you have paid for.”

  “Very well.” Valzoa agreed. “I am off.”

  With that he whipped the tip of his rapier around him like one would trace a circle around them. He brought the blade up as he did so, and the snow swirled around him faster and faster as winds picked up in speed. He thrust the point of the rapier into the sky, and the winds lifted him up into the sky like a shot from a catapult, his violet and gold figure dwindling quickly into the distance.

  Jalyin watched him take off with unconcealed surprise. The male had more than a few surprises up his sleeve after all. If he had mastered such a magic, she couldn’t help but wonder what else he was capable of. Perhaps he could have beaten her in a straight fight after all. But why didn’t he press the matter? She frowned briefly before disappearing into the snow.

  Maybe he had been seriously flirting with her. It was an odd thing to consider; she only did so because her looks and actions could be distracting, and therefore gave her an advantage. Was it possible that he saw through the act, or was he just dense enough to think she was honestly flirting with him?

  Either he was exceedingly savvy for a noble, or he was just a good actor. No matter what though, he had purchased the boy some time away from her attention. A month without her directing trouble towards them; after all he didn’t need to know that she wasn’t paid to kill them yet. She took one last look at the courtyard as some of the men started to stir. They would soon find that their prisoners had ‘escaped’, and would relay that information back to Ironsoul proper.

  Now the boy wouldn’t even be able to run home, should he try to escape from the things her master had planned for him. Everything was working out smoothly, and she made a large amount of money on the side. It sounded like the beginning of an uneventful month for the wizard.

  Chapter 24

  Endrance and Joven eventually found their way again, and continued to ride along their path. They had to keep moving and despite the cold and the poor weather; opportunities to camp like they did before were no longer possible. It was just too risky with just the two of them.

  Endrance and Joven moved for as long as they could, and only set up a camp once the suns were both gone over the horizon. They found a small area that offered reasonable enough coverage, several trees grew closely against a small snowy hill only a dozen feet tall. They built their campfire on the other side of the trees from the hill, using its size to cut the wind that blew at their backs while they had been riding.

  Endrance sat against the trunk of a tree, watching the lazy drift of snowflakes as Joven dragged several branches cut from nearby evergreen trees together to make a basic shelter. They had tents, but they needed to be able to abandon the camp quickly in case more wolfmen came upon them. Joven tossed the branches he was dragging up to the campfire and scowled.

  “I don’t know how well protected we are going to be tonight.” He started, observing the night sky. The clouds were scattered and snow was drifting lightly from on high. “If the assassin is as good as that elf was saying, she’d be able to find us without trouble.” He concluded. He started assembling a lean-to so Endrance could get some rest.

  “You know it would probably be safer if we split up after tonight. Tomorrow I’ll make a big distraction, draw anyone’s attention away from you, then make my way to Balator on my own.” The big man commented offhandedly as he finished tying together several spread out branches, making a shelter of green pine needles that if anything cut down the chilly air and caught the snow. “I am better able to take care of just myself in these dangerous situations, and if it would get you out of danger that would be even better.”

  Endrance shook his head, tossing a faint glitter of melting snowdrops into the air. “No, Joven.” He denied. “I don’t know how to survive in the wild like this, in foreign territory, by myself.” He huddled in his winter clothes, trying to stay warm. “Besides, I wouldn’t know what to say or do once I actually got to Balator. That part is also your job. No, it would be safer if we moved together on this.”

  Joven shook his head, drawing his axe and producing a sharpening stone. “Suit yourself, little one.” He looked up at the night sky. “Then I will need to wake you early in the night, and have you look out for assassins while I sleep. I will be no good to you exhausted.”

  Endrance accepted. “Fine. I can do that.” He crawled under the lean-to, and lay on his bedding. Pulling the blanket over him and wrapping it around himself as best he c
ould, he tried his best to sleep. He lay there a while, able to see glimpses of the campfire and his bodyguard through the boughs of the improvised shelter. The precise, methodical sound of stone sliding against steel as Joven sharpened his axe was almost hypnotic. The snow blanketed everything, and the other thing Endrance realized as he drifted off to sleep was exactly how quiet things were. He imagined as darkness slipped across his vision that he and Joven were the only people in the entire world.

  He didn’t dream that night, but instead kept almost waking up. The night was so cold, so quiet, that the littlest noise or change in environment seemed alarmingly distinct. His sleep was one of being only barely warm enough to drift off, but too cold to become comfortable. He fitfully slept for several hours when he was awoken roughly by a strong hand.

  Endrance startled awake, ready to dash for safety when he realized that his bodyguard was trying his best to gently wake him. He looked up at Joven and at the night sky, and blinked away the drowsiness. It was still very dark out, and the campfire had fallen low. Joven looked tired, dark bags beneath his eyes. He also couldn’t conceal the faint tremble through his body as he shivered slightly. Even with all the furs he had donned when it started snowing, the cold would creep through all his body heat.

  Endrance pulled himself out from under the blanket and shelter, and pulled out his book. Opening it, he turned his head to Joven. “Get some sleep, I’ll watch out for now.”

  Joven nodded assent, and crawled under the shelter. “Oh good,” he said. “It’s still warm in here.”

  The young mage flipped through the pages and sat quietly near the dying fire. While he could see fairly well into the woods with the limited moonlight provided by the slightly cloudy night, the fire was also warm and he needed that much in order to stay alert. He held the book in his left hand, using a finger from the same hand to keep the page. With his teeth he pulled the glove off his right hand, tugging at one finger at a time until it was loose enough to take off.

  The young man dropped the glove in his lap and flexed his fingers in the cold winter air rapidly, trying to move warmth back into their bones. Once he felt confident he could twist them in the correct patterns, he quietly mouthed a few words of power, his right hand changing position and closing and opening fingers in the precise order required. He finished his brief chant and pointed with his right hand at the dying campfire. He couldn’t even feel the draw on his reserves of magical energy as it flowed from the spell formed in his body through his hand, and jumped to the campfire.