“I…” Endrance’s voice trailed off as he thought about it. “I couldn’t explain it in a way that would make sense easily. Just be confident that I have taken much time and effort into ensuring my hide comes out of this intact.”
Joven adjusted the drape of his winter cloak as it settled upon his shoulders. “Well whatever you did, I am impressed. I didn’t even know you could make things with magic in them.”
Endrance shrugged. “I didn’t really do that.”
“Then what are the things you gave us?” Joven asked.
“Well,” The young mage began. “For your object, it has a spell inscribed in silver, which can conduct power into a spell. The only thing you don’t have is the ability to channel your own power into a spell. But you may remember my statements that blood sacrifices give some of the person’s power up when performed.”
“Ah.” Joven exclaimed. “So if I smear my blood on it…”
“You will empower the spell and make it work.” Endrance concluded.
He turned and gestured at one of the Fjallar-feathered armbands. “These are a little different. Gullin was kind enough to give me nine of his feathers. The Fjallar are very much entwined with magic and particularly the powers of fire and time. The spells for those have already been cast; they lie dormant in the cords I wove. The feathers allow me to keep the power needed to cast each spell; breaking the cords releases the power and heals you.”
“Why couldn’t we use the blood thing like Joven would?” Bridget asked. “I mean, if we need healing we’d be bleeding already anyways, right?”
“Ah. That would be the case.” Endrance said. “But the efficacy-”
“The what?” More than one voice asked.
“The… strength of the healing spell is dependent on the power put into it. I wanted it to heal as much as possible, so I devised this method so I could provide the power for the spells. Using your own blood may very well not even be enough to heal the injury that bled you in the first place.”
“Oh.”
“These should be sufficient for now.” Endrance concluded. “The point being that I haven’t made a truly enchanted item like the bracer I’m wearing.”
“So for the moment we wait until the king has his next big public event, so that we can appear before him in front of the largest audience we can manage.” Endrance explained. “Then we challenge his attempt at breaking barbarian tradition, and hopefully damage the people’s trust in him enough that they won’t act until we’ve taken care of the king.”
“If we can prove he deals with demons, we won’t have to do a thing; the people of Balator will tear him apart. It would show that the ruler was corrupt and breaking the worst taboo… Knowing magic.” Anna clarified.
“What do they do to people they catch practicing magic who isn’t the Spengur?” Endrance asked.
Joven shrugged. “Usually a crowd of people will gather and stone them before any official execution could be arranged.”
“Oh.” Endrance said. “That’s pretty… horrible.”
“Yeah.” Bridget agreed. “They can be so impatient.”
“Bridget!” Anna exclaimed. “That’s not what he meant!”
The middle Draugnoa smirked. “I know.”
Joven rolled his shoulders and unhooked the cloak. “I’ll have to have better weaponry if I am going to end up fighting Kalenden. I’ll need the family axe.”
Endrance sighed. “All right. Where is it? Please tell me it’s not buried at the bottom of some family tomb or was lost in a dragon’s den years ago or something.”
Joven looked at the mage incredulously. “What? No!” he exclaimed. “It’s at my mother’s house. She’s kept it since the death of my father Daelen.” The barbarian shrugged. “I don’t know about your people, but an heirloom weapon does not make much of an heirloom if you bury it with the family members that died carrying it.”
“You’re right.” Endrance said. “I’m sorry. How hard would it be for you to get it?”
Joven grinned. “It’s my ma’s place. I’ll know how to get it, and you’ve met her, so you should know that she would let me use it if it meant preserving our family’s honor.”
“So…” Endrance began. “You could go get it on the way and meet us at the castle bowl?”
Joven nodded.
“Fine. We will take only a few more days to prepare while we wait for an opportunity to move. If in a few days we do not see one in the near future, we make one. Understood?” The wizard detailed. Everyone nodded or spoke up in assent. “Good. Anna, Bridget, please help Selene with whatever else she needs to get prepared; she’s had less time than we have.”
The five split up then, each to prepare for the upcoming conflict in their own way. Joven maintained his best armor and weapons, familiarizing himself with their grips and weights as he practiced with each. Anna and Bridget checked Selene over, and as a trio they trained with their favored weapons until they felt they were in their best form. Only then did they begin sparring with each other in earnest, their egos set aside for the sake of becoming as prepared as possible to protect the Spengur whom they had come to love.
Endrance’s preparations were all the more arcane. While the bodyguard prepared his equipment, the Draugnoa prepared their bodies; the mage had only to prepare his mind. He sat cross-legged in a room in the back of the caves, nestled away from the myriad distractions the other four would cause to his concentration. His eyes closed, he retreated into the safest place he’d ever been; inside his head.
Within his thoughts he touched upon his aura, the knowledge he had gathered over years of study and practice, and the experiences he’d had in the few months he had been away from home. He also felt the tattooed lines that marked his meridians, the magically reactive inks that had been apparently tattooed upon his body since before he could remember. As he expanded his senses, he began to include the intricacies and potent power behind the bracer on his left forearm. During the process, his aura lit up anew with faint golden light, visible and audible but not brilliant, like a faint visible wind washing up around the meditating mage.
He had learned more in these few months out on his own than he had in a year studying under his old master Kaelob. While he had great respect and admiration for the man, he knew that this was a critical stage of a wizard’s advancement. Without the life or death struggles, the battles with both his foes and his self, he would never have found out so acutely what kind of man he was.
Only by being faced with what he was capable of, and the magnitude of effect even the slightest of his decisions had, was he able to see in himself both a great hero and a terrible monster. It was analogous to the prophecy that had ended him exiled in a cave, seeking to overthrow a kingdom. He had within himself a great savior and a great destroyer, for magic was the thing that let him do things that only the gods could best him at.
He pictured himself in a great library, where the shelves within stored all of the things he knew or remembered. There were shelves stacked with book after book on a subject. There were shelves in the back, out of the way places that were filled with dusty recollections of older times. There were a great deal of shelves he pictured empty, devoid of all but a few pages of his limited understanding of the subject. In the center of the library was a circular reflecting pool, a pure white marble pool only an inch deep where the water reflected his state of mind.
The mage walked out into the reflecting pool, standing on the surface of the pool and causing concentric ripples to flow across the surface. From the center he held out his arms and took a breath. He concentrated on the things he would need to do and the magic he should need to handle the threat.
From all over the library, books lifted from the shelves and floated over to the mage, entering into a gently wobbling orbit around the circumference of the pool. He held out his hands and splayed the fingers of his hands as two books floated in front of them. The books pulled closer to him, coming out of their orbit and flipping open under his
fingertips. The information he was seeking was recalled, and he gathered what he needed before flicking his fingers and sending them back into orbit. He repeated the action several times, gathering his memory and ordering it how he would need.
Spell formulas danced at his fingertips, words of power pulsed in his ears. He was surrounded with the trappings of his craft. The mage took the information he had gathered and he made himself ready. In this trance he was unaware of the outside world in its entirety, but the world within his mind was infinite and under his complete control.
He opened his eyes to the world several hours later. He had reminded himself of the little intricacies of every spell he had learned or devised. Each tiny part of the spell was needed to be known perfectly, or else the spell could cost many times more power than was really needed to use it. Having gathered his thoughts, he would be far less likely to make little mistakes during spell casting in the next few days. While he didn’t look forward to the sensations he would be feeling next, he knew the grave nature of the task before him mandated its necessity.
Gullin? He called his familiar. I need you now. It’s time.
The bird fluttered into the room. They’re concerned for you, you know. He told the mage. You’ve not eaten since yesterday. The crimson bird perched on his shoulder.
Is that so? I’ll have time to eat after I’m done with this one. It’s going to be a big one. Endrance replied.
You said that about the last ones you’ve done. The familiar replied, pecking at his cheek.
Hush you.
The mage concentrated on the spell form he would need, and focused on the meridians of the inside of his right forearm. “Here we go.” He muttered.
By the time he was done half an hour later, he was hunched over his arm, his clothes soaked with sweat. Perspiration dripped from his brow, and his eyelids fluttered as he struggled to remain conscious. The lap of his robes had been stained in sweat and spatters of blood. Electric tingles of pain shot up and down his arm in spasms, and Endrance could taste blood in his mouth. He must have bitten his tongue again.
Oh dear. Gullin scolded. However would you heal those kinds of injuries if I wasn’t around to help?
Are… are you making a joke? Endrance asked, the oddity of Gullin’s behavior distracting him from his pain.
Indeed. Let me handle the words, you form the rest. The familiar instructed.
Endrance formed the hand symbols and gathered up the energy needed for the healing spell. While perched on his shoulder, Gullin crooned a strangely melodious and complicated sounding birdsong in his tripartite voice, and the spell took effect. The gash across his tongue and the general pain of his strained body eased, but didn’t disappear entirely.
So I think I figured out how you do that. Endrance stated.
Oh? Let’s see if you get it right this time. Gullin replied amusedly. They had been using the familiar’s abilities as a springboard for advancing Endrance’s education, and so the Fjallar had refused to explain how he had helped Endrance heal his damaged throat.
You are in fact providing the words of power. Endrance stated. Another fact is that the spells work, and while I can’t say for sure, they seem to be very strong for the amount of power I put into it. This would lead me to believe that you are using the words of power in your natural language.
That is mostly correct. Gullin responded, chirping happily. To be more accurate, our songs are a language of power of their own right. And you noticed that spells are more powerful because our language is closer to the true language of power than yours is.
True language? Endrance asked.
Another lesson, another time. Gullin stated, fluffing his feathers up. Let’s go to the fire and eat!
Endrance picked himself up and went to eat after changing into a different set of robes. He had sweat more preparing himself for true war magic than he had when engaging in live knife combat practice with a barbarian warrior. His arm would be sore, but he covered over the forearm with the sleeve of his robe. He didn’t need to call unnecessary attention to the work. They would think he was just injuring himself.
He ate, rested a while, and returned to the meditation room to continue working. He would be prepared for when they got the chance to move. They all would be. The fate of Balator, maybe even the world, depended on their actions in the next few days.
Chapter 33
Their opportunity came the day when their latest incursion into Balator revealed that later that evening King Kalenden was going to hold a feast celebrating his son’s birth and great future. A large gathering of commoners and nobility alike was allowed to visit, so all may see the child and witness the chosen hero. This was the best opportunity they could hope for, and they slipped into the kingdom proper under the guise of hooded cloaks, hiding among the crowds of commoners. Nearly invisible against the background of milling crowds of barbarians yearning to see the child, they were able to move with the throngs until the whole of them made it to the seventh bowl where the feast was to be held.
It was an outdoors feast, with the tables laid across the expanse of grass and dirt that made up the empty space between the road and the Spengur’s hut. Endrance suppressed a twinge of irritation, as he wasn’t able to pick out the remains of his home in the yard anymore. It seems that men had been clearing the burnt timbers out of the site since it was safe enough to approach.
The king and his wife, alongside his newborn child and his eldest son, had their table set up in the newly cleared spot that had once been Endrance’s meeting hall, where less than a week before he had helped deliver four babies and set about a chain of events that dazzled his mind just thinking about it.
The other tables present were along the sides, and the main of the expanse held hundreds of milling people. It appeared that this was to be a standing affair, where after coming up and viewing the child, one could grab a handful of food and enjoy their king’s benevolence. Endrance found it hard to keep his head down, he was so agitated. He didn’t feel that strange irritated and hostile sensation he had before though. Perhaps there was something in the throne room, not the king himself that had affected him?
As the suns neared the horizon, the crowds of people had formed a crowded line of people, hoping to get a good look before it got dark. Endrance and the others gathered together as the line coalesced near the king’s table. They kept their weapons and faces hidden as they approached.
For this day, Endrance wore not robes, but sturdy pants and boots. On his chest he wore a simple vest underneath the chain shirt he had been given, and over that he wore his Blood Tiger Hide coat. Since he had not worn it since clothes had been provided when he arrived in Balator, the coat had been waiting for him in his travel pack when they fled the kingdom. He was not concerned the king would identify him prematurely because of it.
Anna, Bridget, and Selene wore different sets of armor and clothing. Anna had light fur armor with winter gear over it, and a hooded cloak. Bridget wore heavier fur layered armor and a similar cloak. Selene hadn’t worn armor at all, instead wearing a simple tunic and breeches under her winter gear and cloak. Her combat style required her to be as unhindered as possible, and armor just got in her way.
Joven wore his heaviest armor, and was better armed than four barbarians. He concealed most of it under his cloak, and tried not to move too much or give away his battle ready state. Fortunately for them, it was perfectly normal to carry weapons and wear armor even to formal events; it was just part of their ways.
All too soon they were at the king’s table. Perhaps it was Endrance’s heightened senses due to alertness, but he saw that the queen that was sitting at the table with Kalenden was not the same woman that he had helped birth the baby. She looked exactly the same, but there were subtle differences that he just couldn’t identify. Perhaps it was just his senses trying to pierce through whatever magical disguises Succubi wore when they took on human guise.
The group came to a complete halt in front of the table, forcing
commoners to move around them to see the baby that was seated on display between the king and queen. The king looked up from his meal and at the group before him. His expression hardened as he realized who they must be.
“Good evening, your highness!” Endrance called out aloud, projecting his voice. People who had been passing by or wandering away from the table turned back to look at him. “Your Spengur has returned!” With that he threw the hood of his cloak back dramatically. This part of the confrontation was a show, for all the people of Balator to see. In unison the four framing him also shed their hoods.
The crowds burst out into quiet confused muttering. From what Endrance had been able to glean during their trip up the bowls was that the Spengur, Joven and the Draugnoa died in the fire. There had even been bodies that had been returned to their families, except for the Spengur. His body had supposedly been incinerated. Now they had returned, even though the families of the Draugnoa had burnt bodies delivered to them and Joven’s childhood room held his coffin.
The king jumped to his feet, and several of the royal guard near the table hustled to bring their weapons to bear. Disturbingly, the queen did not move or change her expression, and most disturbing of all made not one move to protect her newborn child as weapons were brandished all around her.
“So I hear you told everyone I was dead!” Endrance declared. “And that I told you that your son there was going to become the hero of prophecy!” he swept his hand out to the people gathered around him. “As they can see I am in fact quite alive, I’m sure they wonder then how wrong you are about your other claims.”
“Yes.” Kalenden growled. “A problem I intend on fixing.”
Endrance smiled. Though frightened, his nervous energy was giving his mouth the volume he needed. “Oh I’m sure you could, but it’s too late now. I’ve already done the damage I intended on doing here. Now they doubt you, and I’ve thrown suspicion over everything you did that day.”
The king’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not all you’re doing here, or you wouldn’t have come dressed for war.”
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