Spellscribed: Ascension

by Cruz, Kristopher

  "You may want to wait over there." The wizard replied. "See those houses? That way you won't freeze to death while I take care of things."

  The messenger shook his head, confused. "I don't understand. How long are you going to make us wait?"

  Endrance shrugged. "I have to finish overseeing the reconstruction of my home; a wizard’s sanctum has to be exactly to specifications and no one here can read so I haven't been able to just leave some instructions. I also need to handle the matter of the king of Balator-"

  "What about the king?" the messenger asked, interrupting. "If the King can release you from service, we can get going right-"

  "He's dead." Endrance interrupted in return. "I... may have had to kill him."

  The messenger and the six men stared at the mage in shock. "W-w-what?" the messenger responded.

  Joven jerked a thumb at the wizard. "It's not his fault; the king had gone bad." he explained. "Was doing demon stuff."

  "Demon stuff." Endrance stated, his tone humorous.

  Joven rolled his eyes. "Summoning demons."

  "So I had to kill him before he killed me." Endrance finished.

  The escort remained silent, too off guard to figure out what to say in response, so Endrance continued.

  "I also have to see to a meeting with the remaining leadership pertaining to some threat coming from the sea, so I really need some time to get that all settled. I promise I won't start anything else or commit to any further promises, but I have to wait for this to clear up before I can head back."

  "How... how long will that take, sir mage?" The messenger asked.

  "Oh... I don't know..." Endrance began. "Joven? How long until General Rohl gets here?"

  Joven directed his horse closer to the escort. "If the general is coming from the west shores at full speed, a week at most."

  Endrance turned from his bodyguard to the escort. "There you have it." he said. "I need a week to make sure things will be fine while I'm gone."

  The messenger looked down at the men, who appeared uncomfortable, unhappy and cold. Of the men, one looked up to the messenger and nodded. He turned back to the wizard and gave a grim frown.

  "We didn't plan on staying that long, sir mage." he said.

  Endrance had already started turning his horse, but stopped and looked back over to the messenger. "Look... um... what's your name, actually?"

  "Ezeilo." The messenger replied.

  "Look, Ezeilo." Endrance continued. "I appreciate that you're here to escort me back to Ironsoul, but as a mage of the circle I have a career here. I can't just walk away and come to a trial leaving this country in more disarray than it was when I came here. These people deserve better than that. I'll be willing to come with you, but I need time to set my affairs in order so that they will be fine in the interim."

  Ezeilo grimaced. "Then where shall we wait?"

  Endrance finished turning his horse and looked over to his bodyguard. "Joven?" he asked.

  The big man sighed and wheeled his horse to the side. "I'll take you somewhere where you can stable your horse and rest. Follow me."

  Endrance watched the men following Ezeilo shivering in their winter armor as they followed and leaned towards the barbarian as he called out to him.

  "Make sure they’re comfortable!" he shouted.

  Joven only held a hand up to indicate he had heard him. Endrance watched them head off towards one of the farmlands and sighed.

  “Great. Apparently the gods have decided I wasn’t busy enough as it was.”

  * * *

  An hour and a half later Endrance wearily passed through the gates into the fifth bowl of Balator, where most of the general population resided. Thousands upon thousands of people lived there, packed into familial homes and houses that had been around for generations. The population was near maximum capacity, but the barbarians’ own violent natures tended to keep it under control. As he rode through the streets on horseback, he passed a few houses that had their doors blocked off or bricked over. Due to the abundance of stone and relative scarcity of plentiful wood, almost all the housing in Balator was of stone. Even many doors were made of slabs of stone bracketed in steel. Endrance smirked; he was certain a dwarf would find the city very attractive, if any could tolerate the barbarians. Even the calmest dwarf would find his blood boiling if called short enough times. Endrance knew this well enough himself, and he was about half a head taller than most dwarves. At least that he could tell. He'd never met one; only read of them in books.

  The bricked over houses were because of custom, not structure. When a family line was 'struck from the mountain', it was exiled from the community and from the city itself. They were shunned and ignored, and everyone refused to deal with them or they would be struck from the mountain as well. Depending on the circumstances, masons came within days to weeks to close off the home, giving them time to vacate the premises.

  There was a debate among the most influential people of Balator about what to do with the castle of Balator. Never before had a king been struck from the mountain, and many were conflicted about what the traditions would mean at that point. Quite a few people thought that the castle should have been blocked off, some believed it should be kept open, and still some others thought that they should knock it down instead and build a new one. Several times over the past month since Kalenden's demise, members of the parties involved had approached Endrance for advice on the matter.

  They had to, since Endrance was the Spengur. The phrase loosely translated to 'sage magician' or something similar, so far as Endrance understood. The people of Balator had such a strong aversion to magic that they simply couldn't adjust for when something magically related happened inside their borders. So while magic was taboo among them, they needed someone who could deal with it when it became a problem.

  That's why they had taken him on. He was the only formally trained wizard in the whole city. He was balanced on the tenuous position of being necessary, but taboo in their society. It was similar to the tales his own people told of witches that lived in the forest next to a town.

  Except that in most of those stories the townspeople weren't on average above six feet tall and capable of snapping the witch like kindling with their bare hands.

  Endrance’s horse slowed down as they approached the house he had been directing her towards. A small house almost lost in the twists and turns of the streets of the city. He dismounted, and tied off the horse out near the front. He didn't expect to be there long. The landing in front of the door still had chips of stone and dust from the bricks that had been knocked down and removed.

  His ears straining to pick up any sound, he walked up to the door and knocked. There was the sound of footsteps, and a voice called out from beyond the door.

  "Who is it?" A mundane request. The woman's voice sounded tired and weary.

  "It's me, Endrance." the mage said, knowing that the person on the other side would recognize his voice.

  There was the loud scraping sound of something heavy being lifted from the door, and the clack of a lock. The door opened a crack and Endrance pushed it open just enough to slip inside. He closed the door behind him, his eyes trying to adjust to the darkness.

  Only a few inches taller than Endrance, she was both curvaceous and muscular without damaging the air of femininity she wore. Her hair was darker than the blackest night and was incredibly curly, forming natural ringlets and spirals. Her eyes were dark black as well, but had a glint of red in them whenever the light fell just right on her. Her full lips turned upward into a weary smile. The woman had an aura about her that always took Endrance's breath away, even when she wore simple winter clothes like she wore now.

  "Selene." he greeted her with an embrace. They held each other for a few moments, Endrance enjoying both the physical contact and how warm she was compared to the outside air. Even in less layers of cloth, she was far warmer than he was. His warming spell only did so much to ablate the cold.

  "Endrance." She sai
d quietly, as much a tired whisper as he'd heard from her.

  “I had a little time before I had to head up to the castle to sit in on another meeting of the city leaders, so I wanted to stop and see how you both were doing.” He explained.

  She nodded, and stepped back, letting him in.

  "Did I wake you?" he asked. The suns had not yet sunk below the horizon that day.

  Selene shook her head. "No." she responded. "I've just not been sleeping very well."

  Endrance shook his head. "I'm sorry." he said.

  Selene smiled again. "Don't be." she said. "It's my fault for spending all my energy trying to keep Bridget in bed."

  The mage mock frowned. "I bet that's tiresome."

  Selene gave him a wink and turned to lead him back. "You should know too," she said. "you bedded her first."

  Endrance blinked several times in surprise as he followed. "W-what?" he asked.

  Selene rolled her eyes, though he was not at an angle to see it. "I'm only teasing, love." she said. "Besides, regardless of how you did it, you tamed her enough that she'd sleep in the same room. That's as close to bedding her as you can probably manage."

  Endrance sighed. "I know."

  Originally Bridget had hated him on the same principle that many of the people of Balator viewed him: small, weak, and passive. It took some time and a fistfight to prove to her he could be strong when he needed to be, and she had finally warmed to him. Except after what happened a month ago, she had returned to hating him even more than she did before.

  Selene led him up some stairs to the second floor. Most of the furniture here had been left intact, as the owners of the house originally had not taken much with them when they left; which was why they had chosen this house for Bridget to rest in. Though they had cleaned up much of the dust, Endrance's nose tickled despite the cold that numbed it. Selene opened the last door and firelight poured into the hallway.

  She looked back at Endrance and tilted her head at the door. "Go in." she offered, "She should be done with her exercises."

  The room beyond was a simple stone bedroom with heavy Balatoran style wooden furniture. There was a large fireplace in the far back wall in the center and there had likely been two people living in this room as there were two of most of the furniture. One bed was empty, the sheets strewn against the wall and the other was tipped up on its end, the legs of the head of the bed used to keep the bed upright as Bridget used it.

  Bridget pulled herself up on one of the legs of the foot of the bed single handedly, suspended seven feet up in the air. Her muscles trembled from exhaustion and effort. The firelight caused dancing reflections on the beads of sweat on her body as she lowered herself down smoothly and began another pull-up. She was wearing nothing in the warmth of the fire and her back was to him as he entered. Endrance watched the muscles on her back ripple and shift under her skin and he figured that Bridget had almost no body fat at all. She'd bulked up since the last time he’d seen her. Almost every curve of her silhouette was broken by taut skin over muscle.

  Her hair was chestnut brown and wavy enough that she chopped it off at shoulder level. Selene had been keeping care of her for the last month, so it looked better than it had during the first few days after the battle.

  The woman grunted with effort as her chin rose above the leg and she slowly lowered herself, her arm almost convulsing with exhaustion as she pushed herself to do just one more.

  She had to use just one arm for these exercises. A month ago she had lost her right arm when she nearly lost her life in the throne room. Endrance's healing magic had been enough to tend to the slash and broken bones, but the collar bone, shoulder blade, and shoulder socket had been all but destroyed by Kalenden's barbed sword. His magic wasn't strong enough to save her arm.

  The ugly scar and deformation of her missing right shoulder and arm disrupted an otherwise symmetrical form. The flesh that healed over the injured shoulder was a pure white splash on otherwise tan skin, looking almost like a starburst from the right angle.

  Bridget finished her last pull-up and slowly lowered herself down until her arm finally gave out. She dropped onto her feet easily, her breath coming hard as she turned to observe him. She didn't move or take any action to cover herself.

  "What do you want?" Bridget asked harshly.

  Endrance inwardly flinched. "I... just wanted to see you." he finally said.

  Bridget looked down at herself and spread her arm out. "You can't see much more than this." she said.

  Endrance blushed, focusing at looking her in the eyes. "I mean I wanted to check and see how you're doing."

  She scowled at him. "I'm doing better, no thanks to you." she finally walked over to the other bed and plucked up a towel, wiping her body down. "Finally am almost as good with my left hand as I was with my right." she admitted.

  "That's good."

  "Yeah. Beats not being able to take care of myself."

  "It does. Is... is there anything else I can do?"

  "Yeah." Bridget threw the towel back on the bed and started slipping carefully into some clothes. "You can give me my fucking arm back."

  He had walked right into that one. "I did what I had to." Endrance said defensively. "You're still alive."

  Bridget turned back to him, and though she was profiled by the fireplace he could almost see flames in her eyes. "I am?" she asked venomously. "Did you do what you had to? Anyone else there would have let me die a warrior's death!" her voice had risen to a shout. "And somehow you bring me back into this half-life of a cripple!" She slapped the skin over her missing shoulder, and held it. "At least if I had kept most of the arm I could do something with it, but this is a chunk carved out of my chest! I should have died!"

  "No!" Endrance suddenly shouted out, his voice louder than intended, his eyes full of tears and his heart aching painfully. "No one should have died that day! None of you should have died!"

  Endrance looked away, wiping at his face with his hand. "I… I failed you." he muttered. "I'm... I'll go."

  He left the room, and barely noticed Selene trailing along behind him as he descended the stairs.

  "You haven't failed me." she offered helpfully.

  Endrance sighed. He pulled her into a quick embrace before he turned back to the front door. "Give it time." he said before setting back out. "It's bound to happen eventually."

  Selene clutched her hand to her chest as she watched him climb onto his horse and ride off.

  “Goodbye.” She murmured. She could see his shoulders slumped and his head hanging as he rode along. Her heart twisted to see him dejected and broken like that; he'd been like that every time he had come home.

  Chapter 02

  Another hour of riding got him up into the eighth bowl. Navigating the city without Joven's assistance was much more difficult for Endrance than he expected, but he had sent the man on an errand to escort the messenger and his escort to somewhere they could stay. If Joven had been leading, it was likely Endrance could have gotten there in half the time. Given Endrance's lack of talent for navigation, the mage was certain of it.

  The city was built into the side of the largest mountain in the range, Mount Balator. Thousands of years prior, a warlord united a bulk of the tribes in building a safe haven against some long forgotten threat. They found a several mile wide natural bowl of rock and earth at the foot of the mountain and settled there, building a thick and durable wall to close off the parts the natural rock formation had left vulnerable. This bowl was large enough for general settling, but was most effective as farmland, as the soil was rich in minerals and food grew abundantly with the constant trickle of water from the snowcaps. Eventually that generation had quarried most of the second bowl out of the slope of the mountain. Each bowl had been designed to be able to fully lock itself off from the rest of the city if under siege, and was set fifty feet above the ground level of the first. Given the relatively broad slope of the mountain, each bowl was three quarters the diameter of the last while st
ill being relatively level.

  During their excavations, the barbarians had discovered a metal they called black iron, which when refined, formed a black steel that was commensurately heavier and sturdier than normal steel. Working the metal became one of their prized crafts, and one of their only trades with the outside world. The stone they quarried out of the mountain was also cut and dressed nearby and dragged back to the mountain for construction. The stone was a dark gray material, though sometimes veins of black stone could be found.

  Which led to why Endrance was there. He rode up to the gates of the castle and stopped, dismounting. A man in armor took his horse and Endrance instructed the man to stable his mount; the horse would be able to rest the night in those stables. His home wasn't far from here and he could walk once he was done with business.

  An older man with a graying beard and most of the hair on his head gone waited for him in the courtyard. Several other men and women were gathered in a circle near a large fire. It was somewhat relieving to see that even barbarians got cold this high up in the mountain. He had not gotten used to the high altitude for months, and even to this day he still couldn't tolerate the cold very well.

  He at least had magic to help sustain him. A simple modification of his warmth spell allowed him to keep the pocket of warm air inside his clothes instead of all around him, making the inside of his heavy layered winter clothing cozy and comfortable, but his nose and ears still went numb and his eyes stung with frozen tears. The spell took so little power that he could fuel it for days on end before it started draining his reserves.

  The arguments stopped as Endrance approached and the assembled people turned to watch him. Around the fire, the people had formed three clusters, each headed by one of the most influential people of the population.

  The first man who had been waiting for him was Thorald Ivarsson. A veteran of many battles, Thorald was a grandfather and had devoted much of his time in the community since he started slowing down with age. Now a great deal of people lent weight to his words and he had been chosen by them to voice their concerns. Beside him were two of his sons, both strong men with children of their own.