Spellscribed: Provenance

by Kristopher Cruz

  “Balen!” Joven called, raising his hand and clasping the man’s, his face that of joy. “I’m so glad to see you after such a long journey!”

  The man smiled, and Endrance could see a similar toothy grin in this man. “As am I, Joven!” he released the grip and clamped his hand across his chest, and Joven did the same. “I hear you travelled farther south than any of us are willing to. How was it?” his voice was deeper and more forceful than Joven’s.

  “Was pretty warm down there,” Joven began; a smile across his face. “And the prey there was weak. I hardly had a challenge until we got back up north!” he shrugged.

  “You must be Joven’s brother.” Endrance said. He held out his hand, knowing he would have to put a strong foot forwards.

  Joven looked at the young man’s hand and almost grimaced at what he knew was coming. Balen looked down at the wisp of a person in front of him and smiled as he reached down and grasped the young mage’s hand. “And you must be the new Spengur.” He said, his massive mitt engulfing the mage’s hand.

  Endrance knew what was going to happen, and instead of shying away or expressing pain got as good of a grip as he could and squeezed hard in turn. The sound of a bone popping was audible, but neither one indicated it was theirs.

  “You can call me Endrance. A pleasure to meet you, Balen.” The young mage greeted his friend’s brother, using every drop of willpower to keep from straining his voice in pain.

  The handshake lasted but a moment longer than would have been normal, and the two disengaged their hands. Balen shook his hand out visibly, and Endrance did the same. “That’s quite a grip you have for being so small.” Balen remarked, smiling as he watched the young man rub his hand trying to get blood back into his extremity.

  “And you have the strength expected of someone so mighty.” Endrance replied.

  Balen turned to his brother and commented. “I like this guy.” He jerked his head towards the inner courtyard. “Come, I am to take you to see the king.”

  The interior of the castle proper was much more attractive. The black stone of the mountain was polished to a mirror shine inside, and many beautiful tapestries hung from the walls. Suits of armor and display weapons adorned the walls, and a thick carpet rolled down the halls. Torches were set in black iron brackets, and the firelight was more than sufficient to light the rooms.

  An easily defensible foyer led into a main hall, which bore to the left and right, with a large double door in the center which led to the throne room. The throne room was expansive, with room for dozens of men to stand about without ever bumping elbows with their neighbor. The room was flanked on each side with eight stone pillars, smooth cylinders with detailed etchings of the deeds of the barbarian kings across their surface from top to bottom. Though there were only eight pillars, six of them had been filled with etchings. The remaining two, the ones closest to the throne, were almost entirely blank. The one to the right hand side of the throne had a third of its height covered, almost all of it with the exploits of the current king on it.

  The king's etchings were tightly packed and started with him becoming king at the death of his father king Gurn, who had died suddenly one day while out hunting with his guards. Everyone had died in the wolfman ambush that day, including Joven's father, Daelen. Ever since then Joven's family suffered the hit to their prestige, but was still a powerful house within the kingdom. His older brothers served the new king faithfully and loyally.

  The rest of the king's exploits included the slaughter of the wolfman tribe that ambushed his father, the subduing of a snow hydra in single combat, and many others which were incredibly violent and overly aggressive acts. Even his wife, a reputably heartless woman, was his conquest as he had taken her from another barbarian chieftain. It was said that she didn't flinch as she was forced to carry her own father's head all the way back to Balator under the king's escort.

  Sitting upon the throne at the back of the room, one hundred yards from the foyer and the entrance to the castle was one of the largest barbarian men Endrance had ever seen. Quite easily seven feet tall, the king's black hair hung down past his shoulders loosely but clean and well combed. His face was brutish and strong, but his black eyes were sharp and bore an almost serpentine intelligence about them. The king's body was of incredible stature, with bulging muscles and strong corded limbs. His hands were broad and his knuckles bore many scars from fighting barehanded hundreds of times. He looked upon his young wizard much like a general would look upon a formation of his warriors; critically, with a detachment that came from watching their men die on the field. He sipped at a chalice of black iron with a golden rim and eyed the trio approaching across the room.

  The ruler's sign of being high status was not any kind of ornate crown but rather equipment of great quality. The king was wearing a breastplate, pauldrons, and vambraces of Balator's best known material, black steel. The process of turning black iron into black steel was a difficult one, but produced somewhat heavier, but much sturdier steel. The king's sword, a black steel bastard sword, was propped up against the arm of the throne. It was a wicked weapon, its double edged blade had many hooked barbs across the edge, making it tear through flesh easily. Its dark surface gleamed dully as it reflected the light of the dozens of torches throughout the room. He wore a crown that was more than a simple golden ornament; the black steel circlet had golden trim and gems, but was built to be worn into battle and protect his head from attacks.

  The king remained seated, a look of disinterest across his face as the three stopped several dozen feet from the king. Balen and Joven kneeled, and Endrance quickly emulated their movements. They hung their heads down, and so did he. The floor was polished enough that he could see the reflection of the room around him in it.

  The king stood, and waved a hand. A servant rushed up with a platter and the king set his chalice upon it. As the servant scurried off the king spoke for the first time.

  “Rise.” He commanded. His voice was strong but surprisingly not grating or rough like many of the other barbarians that Endrance had encountered.

  Endrance felt a shiver shoot up his spine, and as he stood he realized he was trembling. Adrenaline had started flowing through him, though he was not in a life or death situation. He felt fear and more surprisingly anger rise slightly in him as he waited to hear the king’s next words. It was an unusual feeling, like he had been riled up or was ready to fight, but he could not for the life of him figure out why he felt that way.

  The king seemed to not notice this change, and stood, coming down the steps. He moved with practiced ease in his heavy armor, and Endrance was unsure if the man even felt its presence anymore. The king paced in front of the young man, looking him up and down critically.

  Endrance felt his anxiety rising, and he felt something deep within his chest ache sharply. Maybe he was overreacting to the presence of the king, or his appearance had been enough to cause his anxiety to boil over into panic. He struggled to keep his emotions in check and waited to hear from the king.

  “You must be the one we sent out to retrieve.” The king stated flatly. “When I heard that you were the recommendation of the Wizard Kaelob, I knew that if anyone would be able to do this, you would.” He smiled and though to some it would be a charming smile, Endrance thought it reminded him more of a serpent baring it’s fangs to strike.

  “Yes, sir.” Endrance replied.

  “Come now, call me King Kalenden. I’m sure we can work together to handle the coming times smoothly.” He said his voice assuring. “I look forward to seeing you get established and working to better my endeavors.”

  “Yes King Kalenden.” Endrance said respectfully. “I will serve you and your people as best as I am able to.”

  “Don’t downplay your abilities, mage.” The king responded. “If you were trained by the Wizard Kaelob, then you should be more than ready for this position.” He turned away from the three and walked back up to his throne. “I have already ordered the feast
to be ready by tonight. Please take this time to rest and recover from your journey. Return here at nightfall.” The king sat back onto his throne, smiling as he could see their travel-worn possessions. “Balen, I need to discuss something with you afterwards. Joven, Spengur. You may leave.”

  Joven and Endrance bowed, turned and left the throne room quickly. As they were walking through the foyer to the inner courtyard Joven asked Endrance a question.

  “So what happened back there?” he asked, concern showing on his face. “I could see you trembling the whole time we were in there.”

  “I don’t know,” Endrance said, rubbing his shoulder as they walked. The feeling of anxiety and anger faded as they walked into the cold afternoon air. “I guess I’m just nervous or something.”

  “You can feel magic, can’t you?” Joven asked. “That’s what you were explaining to me before, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, if I remember, the royal armor is enchanted.” Joven supplied.

  “That… That could be it.” Endrance accepted. “If it’s powerful enough it would definitely make me feel uncomfortable.”

  “Well, we can go visit my family. My mother would love to see me after being gone for so long.” Joven offered. “She can make anyone feel welcome.”

  “Sounds good.” Endrance said, feeling how tired he really was. Why was he so strung out? It felt like he had just survived a near death experience.

  “Great!” the barbarian exclaimed. “She’d love to see you. Her father was bodyguard to the second to last Spengur, and she’s always been curious to see another one.”

  The two of them went down the bowls to the fifth, where Joven’s family home was. His mother turned out to be a very nice woman, and though she lived alone most days now, she was more than happy for the company. They visited for a few hours, and she made Endrance promise to come down the mountain for stew someday. All too soon time had passed and the two found themselves back at the castle, the suns having just barely faded on the horizon.

  The castle had been lit by several braziers and incense floated heavily through the air. The hundred meter hall had three long lines of tables down its length, and each was stacked with foods of all kinds. Hundreds of men and women of Balator milled around awaiting his arrival. Instead of happiness or glee, their faces turned somber and dark when he entered.

  Men in armor escorted him to the far end of the room, where the king and his family sat at their own table, which spanned across one end of the three rows. At their table was placed a roasted hog of massive size, as well as plates bearing all kinds of cooked foods, baked breads, and sweet delicacies. Goblets sloshed heavy with wine, and servants moved amid the crowds, taking the lull in activity to refill a few guest’s drinks.

  The king turned to the assembled collection, his goblet held in one hand and his other held up for all to see. He spoke in a loud voice that carried from one end of the hall to the other, something he had much practice performing in his years of kingship.

  “People of Balator!” Kalenden exclaimed. Again, Endrance’s anxiety spiked, but he closed his eyes and clamped down on the feeling as the king continued. “For some time we have been without our Spengur! Without the one who would protect us from the evils of magic!”

  The people slapped their hands on the tables in unison several times. The king smiled. “But that is no longer!” He shouted, gesturing a hand towards Endrance as he opened his eyes once more. Everyone was staring at him, their faces grim. “This one will stay with us and protect us from evil by using that very magic against it!”

  Again, the barbarians slapped their hands on the table, and Endrance could see the only one really smiling during the process was Joven. From his place, the king shouted aloud over the sound. “Bring on the sacrifices, so that we may gain his service!”

  Several of the people at the tables stood and approached. A total of eight stood in a row before the king’s table. The first stepped forward and spoke loudly.

  “To the Spengur, we give to him two passels of hogs with sows, so that he may always have food!” He declared. Everyone burst out in cheers and encouragements, thanking him for making such a great sacrifice, and congratulating him on his selflessness. Endrance would have felt uncomfortable enough just hearing the man give him so much, but it was all he could do not to bolt for the door as the rest of the group made the man out to be some kind of martyr before him.

  “Thank you.” The king said, and the man returned to his table.

  The next stepped forward, a woman. “To the Spengur, we give him a year’s measure of grain, a year’s measure of vegetables, and a plot of our best soil, so that he may grow his own foods.” She proclaimed somberly.

  Again, people cheered, the king thanked her, and Endrance felt worse. This followed for the remaining six people, who had given up clothing, equipment, even a chest of gold pieces. The whole time the people of Balator cheered them as heroes, which only made him feel like he was the villain, extorting such a bounty from their people. He thought it was over when the king dismissed the last of the eight.

  Instead, King Kalenden walked around the table, holding his hands out and his palms splayed, seeming to bask in their attention as the sound of the barbarians thumping the table droned louder and more insistent. He took a deep breath and cried out, his voice piercing through the noise.

  “Do you think your king is not ready to give as much as his people?” he shouted aloud. The people resounded in the negative, cheering him on. He turned to Endrance, and the wizard stood nervously, gripping the end of the table. The king pulled from his pocket a silver necklace chain, bare of any ornaments or decoration. The people pounded louder and cheered harder.

  “Come forward, Endrance of Wayrest.” Kalenden called to him.

  Endrance gulped and walked around to stand before the king. The man towered over him, and the muscles of his forearms rippled as he handed the ends of the necklace to him. Endrance became acutely aware that the man’s bicep was thicker than his neck.

  The king stepped back and spread his hands again, leaving Endrance holding an end of the necklace in each hand. “And now, I give to the Spengur the gift of our history! Bring forth the Ergkinoa!”

  The pounding on the tables stopped in an instant. The silence rang through the chamber as the entrance doors opened.

  “Say goodbye to these brave women, and know that their sacrifice will ensure that the Spengur is always prepared to battle the evil of magic!” The king exclaimed into the silence.

  No man or woman spoke, nor did they move, nor did they gesture to the three women who entered the great hall. They collectively hung their heads in mourning as they passed. The Ergkinoa had changed out of their fur armors, and wore simple white dresses and a single silver ring on their left hand. They wore no other ornaments, or shoes, or jewelry of any kind. The cloth of their dresses was sheer enough that Endrance could see the lines of their bodies silhouetted by the light of the braziers passing through the cloth.

  He shook his head and blinked his eyes clear. Why weren’t they wearing more clothing? The women seemed unaffected by the cold stone floors, and the three of them kneeled as one before him.

  The first one was a woman in her twenties, almost six feet tall and leanly built. Her hair was platinum blonde, and she had icy blue eyes. Her body was muscular but still feminine. The dress clung to her body around her slender breasts and buttocks, and her face was pleasant to look at, with angular cheekbones and full lips. In all, she had a mature beauty that would take the breath from any man she so desired.

  The second was the woman he had seen earlier in the day. This woman was at least six feet tall, her body muscular and lean. She seemed to be about twenty. Her dress was tight across her body, but it accentuated her strength and power rather than any femininity. Her face was strong, more tanned than the other two, and her brown hair was short and framed her fierce brown eyes. She did not seem pleased to be in the room with him at all.

  The t
hird woman was barely out of being a girl, likely closest to Endrance’s age. Her black hair was curly down to her shoulders, and her black eyes deep and soulful. Her face was more rounded than her sister keepers. Her body was neither statuesque or muscular, but rather toned and slender. Her dress clung to her body tightly, and though shortest of the three, her body sported the greatest curve of breast and hip. Every time Endrance looked her in the eyes she looked away.

  The women quietly remained kneeling in a half circle in front of Endrance. Someone else would have enjoyed watching them kneeling before them, but the young mage felt nothing but embarrassment for them. He looked to the king, wide eyed and unsure of what to do.

  “Are they to your satisfaction?” The king asked.

  “Umm.” Endrance stammered, looking back at the three. “Y-yes?”

  The first woman stood, and from her hand plucked her ring. She reached out and gently grasped his left hand and took the end of the necklace from him. She slid the ring onto the chain. She looked him in the eyes, and he saw sympathy before she spoke, her voice hardly loud enough to carry father than the king.

  “And in so doing I die to my king, giving my life so that the kingdom be served.” She intoned a phrase that seemed rehearsed, though her voice was pleasant to the ear. She placed the end of the necklace back in his hand, and walked around him to stand behind and to the left of him. The ring hung in the light, and the young mage could see something engraved upon the surface.

  The second woman, Bridget, stood before him. She scowled at him openly as she yanked the end of the chain from his hand and plunked the ring onto it. “And in so doing I die to my king, giving my life so that the kingdom be served.” She growled, and went to stand next to the first. He was pretty sure it was the growl, but her voice wasn’t as pleasant.