by Eric Vall
I laid my head back and focused on not being in pain. Arwyn passed her hands over me and twitched her fingers in a spell. She muttered, and I could feel some kind of ease in the discomfort throughout my body.
“Well, the good news is your injuries aren’t too bad,” Arwyn sighed. “Erin told me you two took quite a shock, but the brunt of it was directed to the pyrewyrm until you decided to so foolishly make the sprucebore your pet.”
“I had to,” I insisted.
“Hmm,” was all the response I got.
I gulped. Arwyn had already told me she didn’t want to be showing up all the time to heal me from serious injuries, yet here we were again. I was in trouble, I could tell that.
In the distance, I heard Layla’s chirping voice ask faintly, “Hey Braden, do you have a black pen I can use safely on a man’s face?”
Yep, I was in deep, deep trouble.
Chapter 4
Varleth and Arwyn teamed up to help carry me back into town after the rift closed. I didn’t feel too injured after Arwyn worked a few spells on me, but my coordination was twitchy and unpredictable. She seemed to think the effects would wear off by tomorrow on their own, and I trusted her prediction. For now, I was left with an unsteady walk.
It sounded like everybody had been staying at Maron’s inn, so our first order of business was to make our way back to it. As we walked through the village, I took note of the damage. A few houses had been on fire, but the blazes didn’t go far. Only one building, a small family home, collapsed due to the damage. The rest were blackened and charred, but otherwise fine.
“Casualties?” I asked as I eyed the collapsed house.
“Only one,” Arwyn reported. “An elderly man who was on a walk just outside of town. He couldn’t get back to safety in time.”
It wasn’t the worst news ever. I eyed the ground. Here and there, puddles remained in the shadows of the cobblestones and the houses. It seemed we’d only been gone a day and a half, so small signs of ice-melt on the ground remained.
The street itself was cracked and scraped because of the fighting. Cobblestones and concrete had been churned up into broken bits that littered the area, and my daggerdillos had left scores and deep gouges in the sides of buildings as well as along the ground. Superficial burns scarred peoples’ doorways, and windows were shattered into shards of dangerous debris. Ralor’s Stead would have a lot of cleanup to do, but the damage wasn’t bad enough to end the town.
“I don’t know what happened in the Shadowscape, but I think your unusual method of casualty control in Ralor’s Stead worked,” Arwyn told me as she interrupted my thoughts.
“You heard about it?” I asked.
“I hear all sorts of things when I treat wounds, but this time, I’m not entirely sure how much of it was accurate,” the healer said. She seemed amused, and her lips curled slightly. “Is it true you sent metal monsters rolling through the town streets like balls in a child’s game?”
In truth, I was proud of my daggerdillo strategy. It’d cleaned things up nicely in the real world before we’d entered the rift.
“It worked, didn’t it?” I grinned and gestured widely with a shaking hand. The tremor only undermined my point slightly.
“It was certainly a sight,” Varleth said dryly.
I laughed. “Of course it was. My sense of style is spectacular.” As I spoke, my gait stuttered for a moment, and Arwyn and Varleth gripped me hard to keep me upright.
“Thanks,” I said gratefully. “Hey, Varleth, what took you so long with the catalyst anyways?”
“Not much,” the banisher mused. “A few wandering imps, but nothing serious. This catalyst was just a ways off. The stagi might’ve made things quicker, but it sounds like Erin was needed on your end of the fight anyways.”
I nodded and looked over at the mimic in question. She’d surprised me today. Not only was it hugely useful to have somebody in battle who could switch abilities when needed, but her quick thinking and flying expertise had proven invaluable. She was an important member of the team in more ways than one.
We finally reached the inn, and everybody filed through the door.
Braden was already at one of the tables inside, and his huge, muscled build made the tables and chairs look like toys. His white leather summoner’s pouch marked him as a mage despite his beefy appearance. Braden greeted us with a pleasant, deep voice and a wide grin across his square face.
Orenn sat across from Braden, and he turned around to cast us a huge grin as we arrived. The young metallogue’s bright, gray eyes and friendly demeanor did more than enough to offset his receding hairline, and he exuded an easy charm in every situation.
Almasy was there too, with his legs kicked up onto the table as he leaned back. Stubble covered his jaw, but his ponytail was neat, and the blond pilot seemed well-rested otherwise. He looked completely at ease as he sipped at a hip flask and waved a two-fingered salute toward us.
Gawain sat with his chair pushed back and his arms crossed, and he somehow achieved a posture that was both princely and childish. His blond hair and chiseled cheekbones could have been almost handsome, but his small green eyes were narrow and calculating. Gawain was a bit of the odd one out, but he quirked a slight smile when we came through the door.
“Looks like all eleven of us got here fine,” I announced with a smile. “Good job, team.”
“Gryff, good to see you,” Braden said as he smiled and got up to give me a hug.
I felt a little like an ant in his enormous grasp, but I grinned and slapped him on the back a few times.
I’d worried about him a bit ever since we parted. He hadn’t dealt with his two-month imprisonment well, and he seemed to lean toward drinking his problems away rather than dealing with them.
As I looked Braden over carefully now, I could see he’d fleshed out a little more and put muscle back on his frame. His eyes didn’t look so haunted anymore, and the smile on his face was genuine. Just a few days had gone by without us laying eyes on each other, but I was happy he was on the right track.
I was eased down into a chair carefully by my helpers, and then everybody took seats and pushed together tables so we could all converse with ease. I had Cyra on my left and Layla on my right. When we were settled, Maron came over with hesitant steps and shining eyes.
“Thank you all,” he said before I could get a word in. “Without mages like you, our town would be gone. My friends would be gone, not just my daughter. I … ” he trailed off as glistening tears appeared on his cheeks. Then the innkeeper cleared his throat and continued. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. It’s not much, but I made up some beef stew for you all, and food is on the house. You’ve fought hard.”
“Mages couldn’t exist without support from people like you,” Cyra said, and her face was kind. “Don’t feel as if you owe us anything. Maker knows people like Gryff and me spent a long time as normal citizens doing odd jobs with monsters before we became anything else.” She smiled and shared a look with me.
I nodded back in agreement.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Maron,” I told him. “You and your daughter have done so much to help the world, even if you haven’t realized it. Don’t feel like she’s gone for nothing.”
He sniffled and nodded brusquely before he looked askance out the window. Regardless of his behavior, I knew Maron would take this to heart in some way. I hoped he could grow and move on.
We all needed food, and lots of it. I asked for beef stew and mead, and my friends added sausages, potatoes, greens, and sourdough bread to our order. Braden wanted two of everything, and Layla grasped Maron by the hand like a beggar and asked for “anything sweet” with a deadly serious tone, which threw us all into stifled laughter.
“You should go clean up,” Nia told me after Maron had left, and she wrinkled her nose playfully. “You smell like a house fire.”
“You look like one, too,” Orenn added in.
My hand flew to my forehe
ad as I tried to cover the damage.
“Quit that, both of you,” I demanded in mock offense. Then I lightened my tone and said, “Everybody, I’m going to go clean up. Don’t eat without me.”
I walked up to my room while I tried not to dread the outcome of what I would see. I gathered some clothes for the shower and stepped into the communal bathroom nervously.
A quick glance in the mirror let me know I hadn’t completely lost my facial hair. Both eyebrows were a little singed, but not gone, so I knew Layla had been teasing me a bit. My scruffy facial hair came out mostly unscathed, and since my hair was tied back, it had escaped damage entirely.
I wasn’t vain, but I sure hadn’t enjoyed the idea of listening to my friends taunt me about my lack of eyebrows for the next month. I was very glad I still had some.
The water was only lukewarm, but it was soothing, and relaxing my muscles in the shower was like a dream come true. It maybe wasn’t quite as good as sharing another bath with Erin and Ashla, but I wasn’t disappointed at all.
I took some extra time to scrub the dirt and blood off my arms. Then I dried off and put on a clean outfit with a pair of tan cotton pants and a pale blue shirt. I spent far too much time struggling with the buttons on them, but eventually I looked respectable.
I picked up my half-burnt clothing and tossed it sadly in the trash. Yet another good outfit gone in the name of saving the world.
When I came back down to the table, Layla was spinning a quill around her fingers. She had acquired a bottle of ink from somewhere, and she tapped her fingernails on its lid.
I sat down with everybody else and ignored the pointed look Layla sent me as she twirled her pen. I knew she wanted to get her sneaky little hands on my eyebrows, and I was sure the result wouldn’t be for the better.
“Is Erin in the bath, too?” I asked Cyra as I sat down.
“She is,” Layla cut in to say, “and then I get to cut her hair.” A wide grin spread over her petite face.
I shivered at the thought of that prankster getting a hold of any part of me. Erin would be wise to not show her face again.
Just as I finished the thought, I heard light steps on the stairs.
“I’m back,” Erin said as she peeked around the corner. Her hair looked a little better than it had before, but the tips were still significantly darker and crispier than they were supposed to be.
Layla beckoned her over, and my orange-haired girlfriend sat obediently on my tiny girlfriend’s lap. Then Layla pulled out her scissors with an alarming flourish, but before she could start in, Nia seized them.
“I’ll take care of this one,” the ashen-haired mage said smoothly. She ushered Erin over to her own seat and started in on a careful, feathered style.
Erin sat patiently in Nia’s lap as the haircut proceeded.
Nia held the scissors with the kind of precision and grace that she did with a sword on the battlefield. Each slice of the blades was purposeful and reserved.
I thought it looked nice.
Layla pouted, but I could tell she didn’t mind having to hand over the task to her friend. Soon enough, the petite summoner was distracted by Maron as he came back through the kitchen doors.
The steaming food arrived on huge plates and in big cooking pots. Silverware got passed around with smaller plates so we could take some of everything. I dug in with fervor and ignored the way I dropped my spoon into my soup every minute. I was too hungry to mind.
“So,” Almasy asked, “what happened at the volcano? You guys got the cypher, but what exactly went down?”
I swallowed a mouthful of potato and cleared my throat. “Well, the volcano itself wasn’t too hard. Ashla used her ice magic to help us slide down to the cipher. When the lava started to rise, my roosa helped us back to the edge.”
Put like that, the trip to the volcano sounded a bit less harrowing than it had actually been.
Ashla held up one hand with her index and thumb narrowed. “We were that close to the lava, I swear. I thought we were toast.” She grinned and dropped her hand. “As usual, though, Gryff pulled through.”
Warmth spread through my chest, and I couldn’t help how pleased I was to hear her say that. Ever since we lost Hartmire, every victory felt so much more important.
“Miriam Sharpay sent some bounty hunters after us,” Varleth explained. “We had a bit of a fight on our way out from the volcano, but nothing too bad.”
I nodded as I remembered how sorely outmatched the henchmen had been against my roosa.
“Oh, but there was that weird thing about the cipher,” Ashla added. “Right there on the stone, it says The Beastmaker’s Prophecy in our language. Weird, right?”
The others nodded and considered what it could mean. We knew so little about the ciphers in the first place, though.
“Perhaps it was a later addition,” Arwyn considered with her scholar’s face on. “Carved by somebody else.” She tilted her head, then slapped a hand onto the table suddenly. “Oh! Maybe it’s a key by the linguist. A way for us to translate the ciphers as long as we have time and resources.” Her eyes grew distant as she considered the options. That brain of hers never stopped working.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said. “I think what’s weirder than the cipher was the woman who I approached on the slope of the volcano.” I frowned as I ran the experience over in my head. “She asked to see my father’s dagger, gave it back, threatened me, and disappeared.” I shook my head. “I just don’t know what it means. She even opened up a portal to leave.”
“Was she human?” Orenn asked.
I shrugged. It was something I’d considered myself, but of course, I had no answers. My friends were smart, but they were as stumped as I was.
“What did she look like?” Braden questioned.
I shrugged again. “She had a hood on. I didn’t get too good of a look, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never met her before in my life.”
It was certainly odd that she had such a fixation on my father’s dagger, though.
“Just another mystery for the books,” Nia murmured as she considered what it meant.
We turned back to our meals with some sense of unease. The prospect of running into another powerful enemy who we knew nothing about wasn’t a pleasant one.
The delicious food helped, though, and soon I was enjoying chewing on my sausage.
“Quit that, you goblin,” Gawain hissed from across the table.
I looked up to see Layla with a salt shaker in one hand as she tried to pour disgusting amounts of it into Gawain’s stew.
“It suits you since you’re a salty person,” Layla said with a smirk. “I think you definitely need more.”
“The only thing I need more of is personal space,” Gawain retorted and pushed her shoulder without any real strength behind it.
Layla snickered and relented, but I could tell by the way her eyes sparked that she would get him back at the next opportunity. The salt shaker stayed inches from her hand, ready for action.
It was nice to see them getting along, in some strange way. Their animosity had turned into casual teasing as naturally as I could’ve hoped.
I accidentally dropped my spoon into my bowl again with a loud clatter, and I smiled sheepishly as everybody looked over.
“How about we have a redo on that race of ours?” Varleth asked, and his expression was innocent.
I snorted. “You wish,” I told the banisher. “You may not have been in top condition for the volcano, but I can barely stand right now.”
Really, I could barely even eat in my condition.
Nia nudged Cyra on the shoulder, and the other summoner nodded silently. Some kind of communication passed between the two, and Cyra picked up my spoon.
“Here,” she said. “Don’t move your head, and I’ll feed it to you.”
I struggled not to flush as I dropped my clumsy hands and complied as she spooned stew into my mouth.
Braden’s mouth dropped open, and he shook his h
ead in amazement. “How does he do that?” he whispered to Almasy.
“I’m not so sure he summons monsters so much as he summons beautiful women,” Almasy confided, and he didn’t even make an attempt to speak quietly.
Arwyn rolled her eyes, and Ashla snorted with a wide grin on her face. Layla, Cyra, and Erin seemed pleased, and though Nia was stoic, I could tell she didn’t mind either.
With my romantic connection to Arwyn no longer a secret, it seemed like my situation with the girls was more out in the open than ever before. I was fine with it as long as the women were too, and they seemed to be in no hurry to give up the fun of our open relationship.
I accepted another spoonful of stew while my eyes met Cyra’s. I winked at her, and she smirked back.
Oh yes, we were fine with things this way for now.
By the time I moved on to my bread, the one food I could reasonably eat without making a mess of myself, Arwyn had turned her attention to healing superficial wounds. She rolled Varleth’s sleeves up and whispered spells over the cuts he’d acquired earlier. His fancy swordsmanship on the back of the stagi hadn’t let him get away without a large number of shallow wounds on his sword arm.
“Can’t you rest long enough for one meal?” Varleth sighed as he eyed the healer. “I’m sure there are townsfolk who could use another dose of healing more than I do.”
Arwyn didn’t respond until she’d sealed up the last scratch. Only then did she say, “Everyone is stable. I’ll get to them later today and tomorrow. This is no more a waste of my mana than if somebody like Gawain used fire magic to heat up his food.”
We all turned to look at the fire mage in question.
Both of his hands were wrapped around the base of his soup bowl, and they glowed slightly with dull flickers of flame. He scowled back at us and snatched his hands away.
“I don’t see why they don’t serve food with warming plates here,” he complained. “This innkeeper is ridiculous.”
“It’s okay, Gawain,” Layla chimed in, and her eyes were alight with mischief. “Nia can help you.”
Nia ignored Gawain’s protests and leaned over with both of her hands outstretched. An orange fire huffed into life over his food, and she pulled back to reveal a blackened plate of unidentifiable chunks of char floating in a thick paste.
