“I was hoping you could help us Avalin. Kearika and I are in need of some guidance.” I tell her, rolling the mead bowl around in my hands.
“Oh? Well, if you’re going to be ominous like that then do go on.” Avalin says, raising her glass to her lips.
“Have you ever heard of a mage called Mendalde?” I ask her. Avalin freeze in place, her eyes suddenly cold as she looks at me.
“Of course I have, every nature mage worth their salt has. I thought you were going to ask me for help with a real problem, not an ancient history question.” She replies brusquely. Ancient history?
“Caius isn’t asking about a legend, he’s asking about a mage we’ve had to deal with. Twice. She’s tall, deathly pale and has red hair.” Kearika says.
“She fights with an amazing wooden sword and is clad-” I begin.
“She is clad in fearsome armor made from stone, sculpted with images of hunters stalking their prey?” Avalin finishes for me, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice.
“Not exactly, her armor is fearsome and it is made from stone but it's covered with reliefs of man being hunted by the creatures of the forest. Wolves mauling hunters, that sort of thing.” I reply.
“Mendalde was one of the greatest nature mages to ever live. Maybe one of the greatest mages ever.” Avalin says, taking a long pull from her cup. Her green skin is taking on an interesting red hue, and small flowers are blooming in her hair. Nature Mages are so strange.
“I had the fortune to be taught by one of her disciples, oh some six hundred years ago.” Avalin says. Kearika sprays mead out in surprise, staring at Avalin incredulously.
“You’re six hundred years old?” Kearika asks.
“Nature magic lets us age far more gracefully than normal people. I’ll probably be around well into my second millennia, albeit in a much reduced capacity.” Avalin says. Seeing Kearika’s slack jawed look she continues.
“Powerful nature mages become part of the earth as we grow older, for instance I’m not really here.” She says, gesturing to her leafy body.
“You seem real enough, and you’re drinking all that wine.” Kearika says.
“True.” Avalin says with a laugh “However, I’m really on the opposite side of Duras, near the Grove of the Elders at the Tower. The forest is being kind enough to lend me this form.”
“Back to Mendalde if you do not mind.” I say, clearing my throat.
“You weren’t so serious when you were my student Caius. Anyway, Mendalde is one of our heroes, she started the uprising against the Necromancers. Surely you’ve both heard about that.” She explains, rolling her eyes.
“Well, I’ve heard about the purge of the Necromancers when I was trained and Caius has mentioned it once or twice.” Kearika says.
“Ha! ‘Purge.’ That’s funny, it wasn’t a purge, it was a full blown uprising. Necromancers ruled Duras, they kept the population enslaved and hunted down all other Mages. This would have been almost two thousand years ago.” Avalin says.
“Two thousand years? That’s preposterous teacher, we were always taught the Necromancers were purged a few hundred years ago.” I say. Maybe she has had too much to drink.
“No Caius, that’s what they want you to believe. The truth is what I have said. Mendalde was a powerful Nature Mage, it was said that she could make forests appear where there was nothing. That she could turn lifeless wastes to paradises, or bring the fury of the storm against her foes. One of her greatest feats was Póg Cineál, a sword that was sharper than any other. It was said that her connection to the earth was so strong she could call it from any wood.” Avalin says.
“I can believe that, we saw her pull a sword like that from a kitchen table, without a single word too.” I say. Curiouser and curiouser.
“What happened to her?” I ask.
“She died. At the penultimate battle with the Umbra King she was struck down, felled by his corrupted blade. Not before she mortally wounded him, but nonetheless she’s quite dead. No one could survive the touch of his sword.” Avalin tells me.
“How do you know all this? How could anything you say possibly be accurate, if it really happened two thousand years ago?” I ask her, leaning forward in anticipation.
“I learned it from my master, Ceann Beag, who was at the battle. He helped lay her remains to rest. You’re not going to question my master, are you?” Avalin asks, a dangerous tone in her voice.
“No, of course not but we have seen Mendalde. Her and her Protector Karl.” I say, and this time Avalin lurches upright, setting her glass down in front of her with such force that the stem cracks.
“How do you know that name Caius, tell me this instant.” Avalin demands. Well that got a reaction, but why?
“I know the name because Karl Tel’roch introduced himself to Kearika when he rescued her, but before he tried to kill her. We first ran into them at Hurendale, after running from the elf we found in the Cratertops.” I tell Avalin. She sits pensively for a few minutes, clearly deep in thought.
“Karl Tel’roch was Mendalde’s companion, but almost no one knows about him or his involvement with Mendalde. They were lovers, he died protecting her during the battle with the Umbra King. The truth is that Mendalde survived, and vanished with his body after the battle. She just walked into the woods and was never seen again. You’re claiming to have seen Mendalde and Karl a few weeks ago is deeply disturbing.” Avalin says.
“Why? You said you’re some six-hundred years old, why would Mendalde being over two-thousand years old be so hard to believe?” Kearika asks, confusion evident in her tone. Because no one has ever lived that long before.
“Nature magic lets us live longer, but the older we get the more connected we become to the very earth that sustains us. In a few hundred years, I’ll be a sprawling tree. I won’t be able speak, let alone move. If someone wants my wisdom, they’d have to hold a special ceremony just to wake me up.” Avalin says.
“I am not sure if it matters though, as we fled from the elf in Ba’tshish I saw it tear Mendalde’s head from her shoulders.” I say slowly, trying to gauge Avalin’s reaction. I feel like my old teacher is keeping quite a bit from me.
“Do you really think that’ll stop her Caius? If she’s been alive for two millennia, you think a simple decapitation will slow her down?” Avalin snaps at me, and I shrink a bit into my robes.
“Could you relay a message for us? So that the Tower can know what is going on?” I ask Avalin.
“Why don’t you just do it yourself? Come to think of it, why are you even in these woods in the first place? Why not just teleport back?” Avalin asks in response.
“I cannot see through the aether, ever since our first confrontation with the elf my senses have been blocked, limited somehow. I can no longer draw from the aether, or see any great distance through it.” I say. However, since I have awoken I have had a certain sense of warmth. Something completely different from the usual presence of the aether.
“Caius, you need to get back to the Tower as soon as possible. No delays. I’m worried about you. Do you understand me?” Avalin asks seriously.
“Of course, Avalin. We will leave at first light.” I reply. Avalin worried? Now I know something is wrong.
“Could you tell me what is wrong with me?” I ask her.
“Not now Caius, it would be best for an expert to tell you. I only know the signs. Just try not to get to aggravated, stay calm and you’ll be fine. Kearika, you are to get him to the Tower. Do anything you think is necessary, let nothing slow you down. I have to go now, I’ll let the Archmages know what you’ve told me.” Avalin replies.
All around us the house begins to rot and crumble, and Avalin’s body does the same. Kearika and I grab our things and rush outside. In a handful of minutes there’s no sign of the cabin having ever been there.
“It would have been rude to leave it standing.” I tell Kearika with a shrug.
“Do you know what’s wrong with you Caius? You’d tell me if you knew, would
n’t you?” Kearika asks, the concern clear in her tone.
“Of course, Kearika. I have no idea what is going on with me. Come on, we need to get going.” I reply.
“You never told me that your old master was going to be so interesting. I always imagined you’d been taught magic by crusty old wizards who are half blind from reading musty tomes.” Kearika says playfully.
“Har, har. Most of my teachers are peculiar in their own way. You would probably get along with them.” I say. I scrounge around for a handful of pine needles, collecting them from the ground. Kearika rips off a handful from a nearby tree and offers them to me.
“No, those will not work. They have to come from the ground. Otherwise we will only end up covering any signs we leave in the branches of the trees.” I tell her, continuing to look around in the dark for them. Kearika rolls her eyes and drops the needles onto the ground, then picks them back up and hands them to me.
“There, I got them from the ground.” I sigh and take them from her, rolling them around in my hands for a few moments. I let the aether flow through me, enjoying the warmth spreading through my fingers.
I sprinkle them on our boots, our clothes and put a pinch down my robes and Kearika’s armor. After a short incantation the needles turn to smoke, leaving behind a strong pine scent. We begin to walk, our footsteps leaving no trail to be followed on the ground. There is one drawback to this spell though.
“This is great and all, but does it have to include the feeling of pine needles scratching me the whole way? Because, my woodcraft is excellent. I don’t need any help hiding my trail Caius.” Kearika says shortly, giving me an annoyed look.
Chapter XXII - Caius
Duras - East of Ba’tshish
19th of Telod, 1873 MD
“You’d think that something doesn’t want us to reach the Tower. We’ve been stuck in this cave for two days now.” Kearika says crossly, staring out at the downpour.
I can think of someone who would not want us to get to the Tower. Someone with power over the weather.
“Don’t you dare say Mendalde either. I already know you’re thinking it. Did you get the fire started yet?” Kearika asks, still staring out at the rain.
With a snap of my fingers the wet wood bursts into flames, filling the cave with a warm, flickering light. Once again, I feel the urge to drink some mead.
“Kearika, what did you do to me while I was recovering?” I ask. Kearika walks over and puts the skewers of rabbit over the fire. The smell of roasting meat makes my stomach growl.
“I don’t know. I tried to ask my ancestors for help with healing you. They turned to smoke and tried to kill you. I kicked the fire, then my great-grandfather told me I was just like him. Then...he poured himself into a cup as pillar of fire? Which I made you drink.” Kearika says flatly after a few seconds of fiddling with the skewers.
I stare at Kearika. Not as weird as I feared, but not as simple as I hoped.
“No, I wasn’t drunk. Exhausted, maybe a little lighter on blood then necessary but not drunk. I also stuffed you full of a magic inhibiting poison to stop you from healing yourself to death.” Kearika cuts me off as I open my mouth.
“I would never suggest that you were drinking on the job. What you said actually makes a lot of sense. It certainly clears up why I have been having these cravings.” I reply. Now it’s Kearika’s turn to stare at me.
“How, how does any of that make any kind of sense? I barely believe it, and I was awake for it. What’s this about cravings?” She asks incredulously.
“For mead. I assume your grandfather had a terrible fondness for it?” I ask her. I need to learn what I can about him now, so I can have a handle on this.
“Yes, he loved to brew it almost as much as he loved to drink it. Why, are you craving mead now? I’ve never even seen you express any interest in it, let alone drink any.” Kearika says.
“Whenever I use a little bit of my magic, I feel a craving for it. I imagine the stronger the spell, the worse it will become. As well as other side effects of the transfusion. Tell me, was there anything else your grandfather enjoyed doing?” I ask.
“My great-grandfather Caius, and no I don’t really know. I never knew him personally, I only know about the mead because I found his old recipes.” Kearika says, reaching for her pack as she does. She opens a small pouch and roots around for a bit, she produces a battered leather-bound book and offers it to me.
“Here, my grandfather’s recipe book. I always wanted to try his concoctions. Being a brewer always seemed like a nice hobby.” Kearika says, turning back to the fire as I page through the book.
I’m glad I can read Kearika’s language, if only I could speak it better. I turn through the book, feeling a comfortable warmth spreading through my hands as I read. This was definitely her great-grandfathers; the resonance confirms it.
I am no longer connected to the aether, for now at least. Like Mendalde’s evil tincture, but benevolent.
“So, does your magic work again?” Kearika asks, pulling me out of my reverie.
“Hmm? Yes, I have my power back. All thanks to you. Would you mind if I kept this with me? I think it will help me with my situation.” I say, still perusing the recipe book. For now, at least.
“Your situation?” Kearika asks, pulling the rabbit from the fire.
“What do you know about your shaman’s magic?” I ask her, taking a rabbit kebab and blowing on it. Still too hot.
“That our shaman's guide the souls of the fallen to the afterlife, where they can be called upon to aid the living. Well established clans and families are stronger because they have access to a greater line of ancestors.” Kearika says.
“All correct. It is also completely separate from the Aether. That is the main reason that the Tower went to war with the North.” I reply.
“I thought it was because we represented an ‘existential threat to their very way of life.’ Or some rubbish like that. It was a war of conquest, we were okay with that as a justification. It’s not like we never went to war with another clan just because we wanted what they had.” Kearika says as she tears into her rabbit.
“Your magic did pose a threat, because it is different. That is part of why Avalin is a hermit, despite easily being one of the greatest masters of nature magic alive. She does not draw from the aether, she draws her power from the earth itself. Your way of magic is beyond the control of the Tower, so it was labeled dangerous.” I tell her, thinking back to my history lessons. It is a good thing Avalin opened my mind to all of this.
“Magic that draws from sources beyond the aether is inherently resistant to it. Your shaman’s spells would be harder for a Tower trained Mage to deal with. Aether magic is vulnerable to other sources of power, so the Tower works to control them all.” I say.
“Though, if you asked a traditionally trained tower mage that’s not what they’d tell you, is it?” Kearika asks.
“Obviously not. The Tower is not as kind as it makes itself out to be Kearika, you know that. I have worked very hard to make myself into an instrument of help, you know I have avoided learning as much destructive magic as possible. Just enough to be aware of its dangers, but not so much that I could erase a town if felt like it.” I explain, staring down into my hands.
“You don’t need that sort of thing when you have me Caius, besides what’s wrong with being a healer? The world could always use less scars.” Kearika says.
“I know. I can understand the plight of the Zauberei though, even if I do not agree with them on every point. I wish there was some way to help them that did not involve offering up mages to the hangman’s noose. I will not stand by and watch my colleagues be slaughtered either.” I say with a sigh.
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out, for now let’s just focus on getting back to the Tower. Once we get there we can work out a plan. We’ve certainly worked enough jobs recently to be able to take a few weeks off.” Kearika tells me, sliding up next to me. Her physical and ment
al presence comforts me, giving me something to lean on. I feel safe, at least for a little while.
I stare into the crackling fire, exhausted. Necromancers, ancient plots and mage hunters. All I wanted to do is help people, not get wrapped up in this madness. Kearika’s fingers pulling my robe open drags me out of my reflection.
“What are you doing?” I ask her in surprise, batting away her hands. Now’s not the time Kearika.
“I’m checking your wound, remember the huge hole you have in you? I want to make sure the healing stuck. Especially if you can’t use the aether anymore.” Kearika says, struggling to pull my robe open.
“I’m quite alright, I can still use all my magic. I’ll explain it to you, it’s not that different.” I say, trying to keep my robe on and push Kearika off at the same time.
“I’m sure you will. After I check you over. Thoroughly.” Kearika says with a cheeky grin.
“Oh! I’m so sorry to interrupt you!” A man’s voice says from the cave entrance.
Oh gods why? I am never going to live this down.
Kearika turns to look over her shoulder at our surprise visitor. The smile drops from her face, replaced by a snarl. She leaps to her feet, bounding across the cave towards him. Our visitor is a slightly overweight man in soaked white robes, which are lined with a deep green trim. He’s a Provincial Judge! Why is he out here in the middle of nowhere?
This man is the senior representative of the Kings’ law, there’s one for each of the dozen provinces. They are minor nobles, with the authority to enforce the law in any way they saw fit. Assaulting one, like Kearika is about too, is a capital offence.
We are going to have to get out of here as quick as we can, to put some distance between ourselves and the soon to be missing judge.
Kearika leaps into a flying tackle, her arms outstretched towards the judge’s throat. She gets within a few inches before the air in front of him ripples.
There’s his ward. That speaks to him being the real thing, but still why is he out here? Something does not add up.
Silver rings ripple away from Kearika’s point of impact and in an instant, she’s thrown back across the cave where she lands next to me. Her own wards snap into being, their green light scattering the loose rocks on the cave floor. The large lump of stone Kearika would have dashed her brains out against instead melts under the wards touch.
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