by Unknown
“We have to face them. We are outnumbered, but we don’t have enough cover to hide or escape. Lucus, do you have much experience in battle?”
“I prefer not to engage in battle, but I’ve picked up a few tricks during my travels. My greatest asset in these circumstances involves using magic on both of you.” The Regallo supporters crossed the street to search the far corner of the park. Slate knew they had only a few seconds to finalize their plans.
“Absolutely.” Slate answered for both him and Rainier, eager for the wizard to provide him with extra strength or speed or anything that would give a physical advantage in the coming fight. Lucus touched Slate’s leather armor and an area of exposed skin. After Lucus completed his spell, Slate flexed his muscles and was disappointed to feel convincingly normal. He was unsure what the wizard’s spell had accomplished, but then he looked across to Rainier and saw the astonished expression on his face.
Lucus repeated touching Rainier’s armor and skin. Seconds later, Slate understood Rainier’s reaction; Rainier disappeared. Slate strained his eyes into the darkness and was able to locate Rainier, but he blended into the shrubbery and park bushes.
Lucus whispered, “I have studied animals in the woods and I know their patterns well. Some are able to blend into their surroundings quite remarkably. Be thankful their secrets are yours tonight. I have enough strength left to also hinder our attackers. I will place the wind in their ears as I did to the guardsmen. These spells will take the majority of my remaining strength, so I will hide in our current location and maintain the spells as long as I can. Fractal’s fortune.” The wizard lay in the bushes.
Their attackers whispered from their location in the middle of the block-long park, presumably about the noise in their ears, and soon were shouting their frustrations, angered at their inability to hear their own voices. Slate took the left side of the group and Rainier the right, dropping two assailants immediately with well-placed blows. Slate jabbed his staff into the base of his opponent’s neck, knocking him out. Rainier cleanly sliced the hamstrings of an unsuspecting swordsman. His wails were deafening to all but his compatriots as he writhed upon the ground.
The remaining Regallo supporters recovered quickly considering their circumstances. They formed a circle with their backs to each other, drawn weapons facing out. One of them was a bit slow and Slate took out his knee, followed by a blow to the head. The group of seven swung defensively in front of themselves, attempting to survive attackers they took to be prey, prey that silently blended into the night.
The leader of the brigands had more wits than Slate gave him credit for. He snuffed his lamp, throwing the entire park into near darkness and reducing the advantage of Lucus’ spell. Slate tried to slip his staff between the twirling mace and short swords but did not connect. From the clashing of metal opposite of him, it sounded as if Rainier was having the same issue until one of the soldiers screams filled the night air. Six left.
Slate tried to sweep the leader’s feet, but the large brigand jumped and brought the mace down directly toward Slate’s head. Slate rolled away, hearing the air whoosh past him. His body had reappeared, signaling Lucus had tired of holding the spells. Any warning to Rainier would have to wait as the Regallo supporters retook the offensive. Three brigands set upon Slate, and he was overmatched. He used his staff to keep some distance, but the leader managed to flank him. He threw an overhead blow with his mace that Slate was forced to block with his wooden staff, snapping it in two. The large man lifted Slate up by the neck with one hand and squeezed. Slate looked directly into the eyes of his unknown attacker and saw a mix of joy and satisfaction. The revulsion Slate felt for this man was overpowering and yet he knew he was at an end. The pressure increased behind his eyes and his eyelids closed for the last time.
Slate awoke on the ground and found Rainier kneeling over him. “You saved my life…” Slate forced painfully from his throat.
“Not this time, Teacher.” Rainier slowly helped Slate to his feet and he saw the mace-wielding brigand lying on the ground. A dart was embedded deep in the side of his neck.
“I was fending off the short swordsmen when they suddenly dropped to the ground. I didn’t see where the darts came from…” A throwing knife plunged into the ground between their feet, burying itself to the hilt and pinning a note with the now familiar insignia of Sicarius emblazoned upon it.
Slate and Rainier looked in the direction of the knife throw. A dark figure stood atop the rooftop of the closest building, basking in the dim ambience of the city at night. The figure gave a slight bow and then leapt gracefully to an adjacent rooftop, landing softly and gaining speed as the headmaster attended whatever other matters were of interest in the darkness of the night.
Slate reached down and dislodged the throwing knife. The weight of the simple blade was offset by the intricate hilt displaying engravings of flowering catalpa trees. Slate pocketed the perfectly balanced weapon and opened the note.
Dear Slate,
I followed your progress during your covert exit of Ravinai. You are as predictable as Brannon’s mood, as loud as Villifor, and slower than I thought imaginable. Currently, you appear perplexed by the thought of crossing a street full of drunken idiots. If you had dressed in something besides the same armor that you wore for the tournament, walked with a slow meander and sang a slurred song into the ear of Lucus and Rainier as they helped you cross the street, no one would have noticed you. You also seem to have a penchant for the grime and refuse of dark alleys and take sadistic joy in scaring cats. Personally, I find the night air and view much better from the rooftops of the city.
Oh good, you have conquered your fear of the drunken idiots and made a frantic dash across the street, hoping beyond hope that no one on the crowded street in front of you would notice. Alas, your plan failed and the inevitable mad dash across the city begins. Some drunkards are following you and others have gone to alert your true opponents for the evening. I will follow after I finish my thoughts and provide help if needed.
The world does not follow the rules of the tournament. No one carries a wooden sword. Your opponents will not be half-trained sparring partners. For whatever reason, this world has given you an important part to play, even if the exact role is still being defined. You will need every advantage afforded to you to compete in a world full of wizards. Take this time to train before you truly need it. If you have not started your game of Stratego before our next encounter I will take it as a sign that Sicarius, and my aid, hold little interest for you.
PS – catalpa trees have long been revered as symbols of wisdom within Sicarius. I do not believe your actions in the catalpa grove with Lucus were coincident, nor my choice in throwing knives for the evening. Consider it a gift.
Slate folded the note, letting his emotions tumble upon themselves as they usually did after an encounter with the enigmatic headmaster. His life had been saved but at the last possible second. He had been tracked effortlessly, and the entire battle could have been avoided if the headmaster provided aid navigating the city. Slate clenched his jaw and buried his frustrations, looking up to Rainier.
“Let’s get Lucus and get out of here. I’m tired of this city and its people.” Nonetheless, the Sicarius headmaster’s words regarding wooden swords inspired Slate to retrieve a pair of short swords from their incapacitated foes.
“Agreed…He may need our help if he pushed himself too hard.” Rainier checked on Lucus. The wizard breathed shallowly but his eyes focused when Rainier came into view.
“So we won? Hand me my axe.” The woodcutter rasped.
Rainier lectured the wizard. “You should not have exerted yourself in that way. You won’t be able to travel for days.” Slate unhooked Lucus’ axe and placed it in his hands. Lucus closed his eyes, and the color returned to his face as the axe drained of color.
“Thanks, Brannon. Well, let’s go.” Lucus jumped to his feet and smiled before explaining his sudden energy. “I have never had a very strong
spark, and I know my limits very well. Brannon’s limits are so high that he didn’t notice when I stored a little extra from his scepter in my axe for just such an occasion. I will need several days to recover fully, but at least now I have the strength to travel.” The three headed west and exited the city with the warmth of the rising sun against their backs.
CHAPTER SIX
CAMPFIRE STORIES
Lucus, the master woodsman, led the group into the forested countryside, paying no heed to roads, as they traveled cross-country toward Pillar. For several days, no one mentioned the events that had occurred in Ravinai. It was as if some mutual moratorium had been placed on all things related to the tournament, guilds, headmasters, or magic. Slate knew this was temporary, but the simple pleasure of traveling through the woods provided a welcome distraction from processing all the people and mysteries that had recently entered his life.
They ate breakfast in a wooded glen one morning, but when Slate began repacking his travel sack, Lucus stopped him. “If you aren’t in too much of a hurry to get home, we might stay here a little longer.”
Lucus had kept a steady pace since leaving Ravinai. Meals weren’t rushed, but they didn’t waste time either. They had covered nearly twenty miles each day, and taking an extended break after a meal wasn’t a part of their established routine. “In a hurry? No, I suppose I'm not. What makes this glen different from the other sections of forest we have travelled through?”
A meadowlark cried within the heavy woods. “An excellent question…but I don’t think we will have to wait very long after all.” The woodsman mimicked the song of a sparrow and Sana emerged from the wood.
She managed to maintain her elegance as she unceremoniously dropped her travel sack and reclined on the grassy knoll. With all the life-threatening activities of the past few days, his initial impressions of Sana had been largely suppressed, but they came back quickly in her presence.
“Glad to see you received my message.” Lucus welcomed his apprentice.
“You know I can’t resist a cryptic message to meet at a time and place with a description indecipherable to anyone but me.”
“I sent that message after meeting Ibson and hearing the worry in his voice,” Lucus explained to the group. He turned to Sana, “His investigation of Slate became more complicated than he anticipated and if something were to happen to him he wanted me to clear Slate’s name and get him safely out of Ravinai. Unfortunately, Ibson’s words proved prophetic. He fell down the stairs of the arena while on his evening walk. Given that Ibson was the most careful and deliberate man I ever met, I find it unlikely that he forgot to look for the next step in front of him…”
“Why didn’t you stay to investigate Ibson’s accident?” Sana questioned.
“Ibson asked me to look after Slate, not to track down his attacker. I have no intention of letting the issue die, however.”
“Where is Ibson now?” Concern for the old wizard was evident upon Sana’s face.
“Brannon transferred him to the infirmary. If his mind is muddled as Brannon described, they have the only facilities available for treatment.”
“I would like to visit him,” Slate stated.
“And I’m sure he would appreciate the visit,” Sana tried to catch up on recent events by addressing Slate. “How did you meet up with Lucus and Rainier?” Rainier and Slate recounted the steps of their final evening in Ravinai, embellishing slightly upon the retelling. In Rainier’s version, he felled three Crimson Guardsmen in their battle to exit Ravinai. Slate caught a blade on his stonehand and broke it in two with a quick snap of his fingers. The two points of the story that remained without alteration were Lucus’ intervention with Brannon and the heroic acts of the Sicarius headmaster.
Sana’s face showed incredulity and amazement as she listened, and true pleasure at hearing the tale recounted. She seemed to easily ascertain the true parts of the story from the conjured ones and enjoyed the story even more for having to dissect the truth from it. Sana eyed Lucus meaningfully during the telling of how the investigation ended. His silence was response enough for her to refrain from asking questions at the moment. Instead, she focused her questions on the Sicarius headmaster.
“The headmaster followed you through the city, and you had no idea? I’ve heard stories of the Sicarius headmaster but most were as fantastical as Slate breaking a blade by snapping his fingers.” Slate laughed. Storytelling was a fine art, and he appreciated when someone let him know he had taken it too far.
Rainier admired the prowess of the headmaster as well. “To stick a dart in someone’s neck while engaged in battle is a formidable task. To do it at night from a rooftop is the sort of thing that inspires exaggeration.”
Slate displayed the headmaster’s throwing knife, which drew admiration from the group and reminded Slate of the note attached to it. Slate wasn’t ready to forego aid from the headmaster, so he pulled out the Stratego token.
“The Sicarius headmaster gave me this token during the tournament for use in a game called Stratego. Rainier, the teacher/student relationship is foreign to me, but I’d like Stratego to be the first lesson for both of us. The objective is to obtain the Stratego token. You must catch the other unaware, either by stealth, thievery, or unexpected incapacitation, but it cannot be forcefully obtained through direct combat.”
Rainier pondered his first task as a student and asked, “Can I see the token I’m supposed to steal from you?” Slate handed him the Stratego token. Rainier turned the stone over in his hands a few times while asking more questions. “How does the game end? How does one win Stratego?”
“I need to have the Stratego token in my possession if I enlist in Sicarius. I haven’t chosen a guild, so it is merely competition until then.”
“Ok, that sounds simple enough, and it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to steal from a tribesman.”
Slate reached for the token. “Let’s start.”
Rainier continued turning the token in his hands. “I thought we’d already started.”
“I was just explaining the rules…” answered Slate.
“Did you expect me to keep the token when you handed it to me?”
“No”
“Then I caught you unaware.”
Slate was about to argue when a mischievous laugh from Sana interrupted him. Lucus, too, chuckled and Slate realized he had been tricked. “Well played, Rainier. You make the Tallow tribe proud.” Lucus offered cordially.
“It appears the mighty tournament champion has not only hands of stone but the wits of one too,” Sana said.
Slate wanted to change the subject from his failed attempt at Stratego. “Speaking of stones and hands, I need to find out what this thing is good for. I didn’t dare use it when we left Ravinai because I didn’t know its capabilities.” Slate made a fist with his stonehand.
“I’ll help you incorporate your stonehand into your fighting technique. Combat seems to find you on a regular basis, so you should prepare.” Rainier suggested.
Sana added, “And I can help test the limits of what you can do…and help mitigate risks in the testing. It is a subject I spent time considering while away and have already devised my first test.” Slate accepted both offers and Sana continued, “We could begin now. The test requires a flat stump that sits under a large, overhanging tree and a stone.” Trees and stones were abundant in the heart of the woods, so they began their morning walk and promptly located such a setup. “Lucus, could you level the stump?”
The woodcutter lived up to his name by taking out his axe and cutting through the stump in one fell swing. Lucus needed several cuts to clear the surface of the large stump, but when he was done, no marks distinguished where one swing ended and the next began. The stump was as level and smooth as a tabletop.
Sana then put on her own display of magic. Walking to the underbrush, she located a vine and held out her hand. The vine untangled its chokehold and wound up Sana’s arm into a perfect coil. Sana’s next di
rections came before the vine finished coiling. “Could you and Rainier lift up that stone?” Sana pointed to a moss-covered boulder in the nearby forest. Forces of nature had failed to move that rock for ages, but Slate didn’t want to concede defeat.
“Of course we can…” Rainier refused to display weakness as well, so the two begrudgingly walked to the boulder. With effort driven by pride, they heaved the stone upward and held it a few shaky inches off the ground. Sana motioned them toward the stump and the two waddled over, managing to position the stone several inches above the flattened surface.
Sana went to work. The coils of vine flew off her arm at an astonishing rate, laying down an intricately woven pattern upon the stump. Slate would have been impressed if he could think about anything besides not dropping a boulder on his foot. Sana finished. “All ri….thump…ght, you can put it down now.” Rainier and Slate dropped the boulder onto the net of woven vines at the first sign of completion. “Good…now we just need a pile of stones roughly the weight of the first stone.”
After scavenging the woods to collect stones, Slate returned to see Sana’s plan come together. The vine web enclosed the stone and formed a rope that wrapped over a large tree branch. The other end of the grapevine formed a second web in which he placed his collection of stones. Sana created a pulley system like the ones used in Pillar’s mines, with the small stones used as a counterbalance to the large stone, but how it would help test his hand he had no idea.
“Rainier, your job for this test will be to add in or take out the small stones as I request. You can start by adding in a few until the large stone is suspended above the stump.” Rainier added stones to the basket and eventually the large stone lifted off the stump, just as Sana described.
“Great…now Slate, the test begins. Please place your hand on the stump.”