A History of Magic

by Scott J Robinson

  When they were ready to leave, Celeste and Grint looked over again. They spoke for a moment. Celeste shook her head and Grint started to walk towards Rawk. Celeste reached out, as if to pull him back, but the dwarf was already weaving through the flotilla of tables.

  “We were just going to...” Grint leaned in close to Rawk, squinting in the dim light. “Are you all right? You look a bit green. And I assume you know you’ve got a big bloody lump on your head? And when I say ‘bloody’, I’m not swearing.”

  Rawk managed to look down at his hand. It didn’t look green to him, but he wasn’t about to argue with the dwarf. Then he was going to say he was fine. What else was he supposed to say? I can’t move. I seem to be stuck. It all seemed a bit ridiculous. And telling his problems to a dwarf seemed ridiculous as well. But he thought that he really did need some help. Perhaps Mistletowe’s spell hadn’t failed. Perhaps it had just taken its time.

  “I think I need some help,” he croaked.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I think a sorceress cast a spell on me.”

  “Oh, very funny...” Grint’s eyes narrowed. “You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you aren’t sure?”

  Rawk gave it a moment’s thought. “I am sure.” He explained the situation.

  “Right then.” Grint waved Celeste over then started to work on the problem like a dwarf— logically and out loud. “I suppose you don’t want every man and his dragon knowing about this? Being a Hero and all. Being Rawk and all.”

  “That would be good.”

  Rawk watched Celeste cross the room. She carried her mandolin carefully, like she was cradling a baby, but walked with a smooth grace that suggested she’d never tripped over or bumped into anything in her life. Celeste arrived at her brother’s side and gave a small smile. “Are you going to come?”

  Rawk looked at her. “Come where?”

  She looked at Grint. “What? I thought...”

  Rawk looked at Celeste. “You were going to ask me to go somewhere?”

  “I didn’t ask. He’s been ensorcelled.”

  “Really?” Celeste looked around as if the villain might be hiding in the corner.

  “It was a while ago. It just took a while for the spell to take hold. Apparently.”

  “Do you need our help? What do you want us to do?”

  Grint grunted. “I was working on that.”

  “Well?”

  Grint gave her a look that must have passed between a million brothers and their younger sisters millions of times all over the world. “Give me a chance.”

  “Well, sorry.”

  The dwarf turned back to Rawk. “Can you move at all?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “If we support you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, let’s have a look.”

  Rawk winced in anticipation as Grint grabbed him by the arm and helped him up onto his feet. His knee didn’t agree with the treatment, but he was able to stay upright with assistance.

  “I think it will take me all night to get home.”

  “Well, we can’t really do anything here anyway. Let’s at least get you up stairs and we’ll go from there.” Grint handed his drum bag to Celeste and moved to stand by Rawk’s side. “Here, wait.” He took off his cloak and threw it around Rawk’s shoulders. He reached up and fastened the clasp at the neck and pulled up the hood.

  “I look ridiculous,” Rawk said. “The cloak isn’t even close to fitting.” It was fine around his shoulders but ended about three feet from the floor.

  “Do you want to be disguised or not? It’s the best we can do. Anyway, they’ll be looking at the cloak and not at you, so all the better. Come on.”

  The two of them made their way slowly to the door. Rawk didn’t know if he’d manage the stairs but the dwarf was stronger than he looked and almost carried him up to ground level.

  “Let’s go out the back door,” Celeste suggested. She raced ahead when Grint nodded.

  The back door was only ten yards away but the journey seemed to take forever. They exited into a narrow alley with a loading dock nearby. There was a wagon parked in the silver moonlight. A pair of draft horses were stamping and nickering in the traces.

  “This man says he can give us a ride,” Celeste said.

  The driver took a pipe from between his teeth and spat onto the cobbles. “I’m not giving you anything, missy. Pay up or you can walk.” He held out a dark, hairy hand. “And if I’d known a dwarf was coming I’d have doubled the price.”

  “You are already asking a king’s ransom.” Celeste sighed then went through a pocket on her mandolin bag and handed over what seemed like an awful lot of money for a five-minute trip. When she was done, she rushed to help Rawk up onto the back of the wagon.

  Rawk settled down onto the boards and wondered if they would have to just roll him out when they reached the Hero’s Rest. He managed to turn slightly and look at Celeste. “Do you know the healer called Sylvia?”

  “Of course.”

  “Go and get her for me.”

  She stared at him, lips pursed.

  He sighed. “Please.”

  “Surely there are closer healers.”

  “I’m sure there are, but I need Sylvia. I’ll pay whatever she wants.”

  “Very well.”

  “Tell her Mistletowe did something to me and it’s getting worse.”

  “Mistletowe?”

  “Just tell her. And be quick about it.”

  Celeste put her mandolin and Grint’s drum into the wagon then dashed out of the alley. She looked like she could run forever, and Rawk hoped that she could.

  The driver grunted. “Don’t know why he can’t sleep it off in the corner like the rest of us.” He started the wagon before Grint was settled and the dwarf almost tumbled back out onto the ground.

  “Steady on.”

  “Everyone seems to be in a hurry so I ain’t going to waste any time.” He turned back to look and grinned a wicked looking grin. “If you fall out, you little bastard, I won’t be stopping.”

  At the Rest Rawk mumbled for Grint to go inside and get help.

  “I’m not waiting here all night.”

  Rawk grunted. He couldn’t have climbed off the wagon, even if he had wanted to. He doubted the driver wanted to take him back down the hill.

  “If Rawk sees him in the tap room there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Rawk’s lip twitched but he didn’t try to say anything. Grint’s presence was probably disguising him as much as the silly cloak— why would the great Rawk go anywhere with a stinking dwarf?— but with the dwarf gone the distraction was gone as well. If he managed to start a conversation, the driver might pay more attention and would likely take two away from two and come up with Hero.

  Grint returned a minute later with Travis and Valen in tow. The three of them managed to get Rawk down to the ground without dropping him then half dragged, half carried him inside.

  “I can’t move at all,” Rawk said, though they had probably worked that out for themselves. His head hung limply. His boots scraped across the floorboards.

  Kalesie was already gone for the night and a helper had just wiped down the huge bench in the center of the room so they hauled him up and dumped him on the damp boards. Rawk laid where they put him, looking up at the vegetables hanging in bunches from the ceiling. The smell seemed like a weight pressing down on him, as if a whole wagonload of the vegetables had been dumped on top of him. He managed to move his head.

  “You can’t put him there,” the kitchen girl said. “Kalesie will have a fit.” The thought seemed to make her smile.

  “I think it would be best if Kalesie didn’t find out,” Travis said to her. He eyed Grint as if the dwarf would’ve been even more of an issue.

  They all stood looking at Rawk.

  “What should we do now?” Grint asked.

  “Your drum,” Rawk said. He could hear the sound o
f horses’ hooves leaving the ostler’s yard.

  Grint swore and ran outside. When he returned, nobody had moved. Valen looked like he wanted to be somewhere else. The boy was chewing on his thumbnail and glancing at the door. Rawk noticed, for the first time, that Natan was standing there as well. The big man was watching silently, dark eyes intent.

  Travis burst into action. “Boiling water, Valen. Quickly.” And he started going through the pouches on Rawk’s belt. Money, bone-handled cutlery, dried meat all came out onto the bench before Travis finally found the tealeaves. It wasn’t long before Rawk was trying to sit up, with Grint’s help, and Travis was pouring hot water down his throat. It was no good. Rawk coughed and choked though he did get down a mouthful.

  “A towel,” Travis shouted to nobody in particular.

  Valen went to look, apparently happy to be doing something again instead of standing watching.

  Rawk watched as Travis poured the boiling tea into a big bowl then set it carefully on Rawk’s lap. Rawk stared at the bowl but Valen was searching through a cupboard in the corner and each sound seemed to assault his eyes. The smell of tomorrow’s boiling meat was like thunderclap.

  Natan came over from the doorway, stopping in front of Rawk and looking into his eyes. “I know something of healing,” he said to nobody in particular.

  Rawk wanted to look away but couldn’t. Not even his eyes were responding to his orders. After a moment of uncomfortable staring, Natan reached up and took hold of his face, one hand on each side. His big, fleshy hands were warm and soft, but surprisingly strong.

  Rawk blinked as the warmth seemed to spread down his neck and up over the top of his skull. A slow wave of cool followed and Rawk was shivering all over.

  After a moment, Natan turned away. “A healer is coming?” He removed his hands but the waves continued. He breathed a storm out into the still air.

  “Yes,” Travis replied.

  “He is skilled?”

  “The best.”

  “Then I shall refrain for I fear anything I do would confuse the situation for him.” He sniffed the tea. “That should help. But now, I will leave you to your ministration, Travis.”

  “Sorry, Natan...”

  “Don’t be silly, my dear.” He gave Travis a quick kiss on the cheek. “I suddenly remember that there are things I need to be doing anyway.”

  “I will see you tomorrow?”

  “Of course. You will be serving me breakfast, I assume.” And Natan turned and left the room with a dramatic swirl of his black cape.

  Rawk might have slept after that.

  He was roused by a sound at the door to the taproom. Mykle had opened it a crack and was looking through. A lightening flash of noise came with him. He looked nervous. But then again, he normally did. “There’s some elf and a fermi at the front door wanting to get in,” he said, looking over his shoulder as if to make sure they weren’t attacking the place, or scaring away all the real customers.

  Before anyone had a chance to say anything, Sylvia pushed Mykle aside and came into the room. Celeste came at her heals. The elf looked furious. The fermi looked even more nervous than Mykle and Valen combined. An avalanche of sound came with the two women and it was all Rawk could do to stop himself from screaming before Mykle finally shut the door and went back to the bar.

  “What happened, Rawk?” Sylvia put a satchel down on the floor then stood in front of him and grasped his head between her hands as Natan had done.

  “Mistletowe...” was all Rawk could manage in reply. The elf’s hands were soft and cool but the grip was vice-like. Or perhaps he was just so weak he wouldn’t have been able to fight his way out of a knitting circle.

  Sylvia mumbled to herself. Her face was very close. Her eyes were very green and intense. Rawk had never really noticed before. Just like he hadn’t known she was an elf until a couple of weeks ago. And she was beautiful, though most elves were, he supposed, in an elfish type way.

  “Either Mistletowe has weakened considerably, or you were only struck a glancing blow. I can’t believe you let her get the better of you. I told you you’re getting old; you need to be more careful.”

  “Companion,” Rawk said around a wet-blanket-tongue. And then, “Warrior.” She didn’t need to know the whole truth.

  Sylvia looked around the kitchen. “What have you given him, Travis?”

  “He had a little bit of tea but choked on it. Other than that, he’s just been breathing the stuff.”

  Sylvia nodded. “That is about the best you could have done, really. I think Mistletowe used a farnaris spell. It turns the target to stone though it usually happens very quickly if done properly.”

  “Can you stop it?”

  “Perhaps. The tea will help him relax, which is important.” She turned to someone. Rawk couldn’t see who it was. “I need salt and bicarbonate powder. Do you have them?”

  Rawk couldn’t move his head to look, but he heard the kitchen girl sniff.

  “Tess,” Travis shouted. Rawk blinked at the explosion of sound. “Do as she says or you will be looking for a new job.”

  Rawk decided to draw in a breath. He felt the fumes from the tea entering his mouth. They tickled his tongue and sang all the way down to his lungs. He breathed again. It seemed like the right thing to do.

  “I’ll need some other things, too. Celeste, bring my bag.”

  Sylvia’s piercing green eyes disappeared again and Rawk found himself looking at her ear. Yes, her pointy ear. He should have noticed years ago. Then that was gone too and he was looking at someone else. Celeste. She was a fermi-dwarf bastard. He didn’t like fermi or dwarves any more than he liked elves. But he supposed he did like Sylvia, now that she wasn’t trying to kill him. Though she said she’d never been trying to kill him. Not really. She’d just been trying to stop him. Was that true?

  Rawk was surprised, and a bit disappointed, when Sylvia’s eyes reappeared, surrounded by her pale face. “I’ve given him some larmin which should slow things down,” she said, “but we need to get him to drink some of this.”

  Rawk doubted very much that he could drink anything. He would have told her that, but he couldn’t move his mouth properly now. Not even a little bit. He breathed again. He really liked tea.

  “I’m going to put this tube down his throat so we can basically pour the liquid straight into his stomach.”

  Rawk couldn’t see the tube but he decided that having it shoved all the way down to his stomach didn’t sound like a lot of fun. But he couldn’t say anything about that either. So he sat there while the elf put the tube into his mouth and pushed it further and further down inside. He felt that he should be choking but couldn’t feel a thing. Sylvia pushed his chin up so he was looking at the ceiling. There were lots of cobwebs there.

  Then they were pouring something in the end of the tube. It was thick and yellow like some horrible slime he’d once seen in... He didn’t know where. It was a swamp. And when the liquid hit his stomach, Rawk spasmed. His whole body seemed to shift a few inches upwards without passing through the intervening space.

  And when he hit the bench again he could feel his body. He could feel fire racing along his nerves. He could feel blood that was too thick pumping through his veins. His skin felt as if it was covered with a thousand stinging ants.

  Sylvia put her hands on the side of his face again and stared into his eyes, concentrating. “I think it is working,” she said after a moment.

  He was asleep before they finished pulling the tube from his mouth.

  -O-

  Rawk didn’t know how long he slept, but it couldn’t have been that long. He’d been taken from the bench and placed on a rug along the wall. Valen and Tess had gone, but everyone else was still there. They were sitting on stools and on the floor not far away, talking quietly and listening as Celeste played a soft, gentle tune and sang in her clear voice. Rawk lay still for a long time and listened as well.

  When he started to drift off again Rawk rolled over.
It was a slow, painful process, but the fact that he could move at all was a big improvement. Everyone turned to look at him.

  “Don’t stop, Celeste,” he said, but she had already stopped and simply sat on her stool looking nervous. “Would you like a job? You and Grint?”

  She looked confused. “Doing what?”

  “Singing, of course.”

  “Where?”

  “Here. At the Hero’s Rest.”

  Celeste and Grint looked at each other, then at Travis.

  Rawk gave a small smile. It hurt his teeth. “I own the Rest. Nobody really knows that, and I’d like to keep it that way. So, anyway, Travis will do whatever I tell him to do.”

  Everyone looked a bit surprised.

  “You own the tavern?” Sylvia asked.

  Rawk smiled some more. “A bit more grown up than you though?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “We can’t,” Grint said. “We have a contract with the Veteran’s Club.”

  “When was the last time you got paid?”

  Grint shrugged. “We got some money not long ago.”

  “All of it?”

  “No.”

  “Then they broke the contract.”

  “I’m not singing in the taproom,” Grint said.

  Rawk grunted. “I want to be able to hear the music. We had Lika Olend in the tap room the other day but I still don’t know what he’s really like.”

  “Then where?” Celeste asked.

  That was a good question. Then he smiled. “There’s a storage room that Travis would love to clean out.”

  “No, Travis wouldn’t.”

  “Well then, Travis should delegate.”

  Celeste and Grint looked at each other again.

  “Well, do you want the job or not?”

  “How much are you paying?”