by Chad Corrie
Done stretching, he noticed Alara and made his way toward her.
“You slept well, I hope.”
“Well enough,” he replied, stopping before her. “It’s still hard to believe I’m finally a free man.”
“Well, you are. As it should be.”
“Yet some are destined to be slaves.” Gilban finished making his way onto the deck. “Their very actions and spirits declare it.”
“It’s not in my destiny.” Dugan’s good mood quickly soured.
“You may be right.” Gilban made his way to Alara, who rose to meet him. “Destiny is never certain for those who have the strength to shape its path. But few have that ability, and fewer still choose to use it . . . or even know how to.”
“You should be sleeping.” Alara’s tone turned maternal.
“I could say the same of you,” returned the priest. “Though I think the advice would receive just as much attention. Besides, I’ve been awakened with new things to ponder.”
“Another vision?” She heard the concern and excitement mingling in her voice.
“Nothing taxing, but my mind needs to think on things before we get much farther.”
“What was it about?” Dugan’s interest was clearly piqued.
“When I became a priest I swore a sacred oath to keep secret the things Saredhel shows me until the proper time . . . if at all. To the untrained mind, the images we’d relate would cause confusion and misinterpretation. Only when the timing is right do we reveal what we’ve learned.”
“But what if the vision could help someone?” Dugan cautiously inquired. “Wouldn’t it be better to tell them right away?”
“And if the vision is catastrophic to that person?” Gilban countered. “Let us say, his death. What if I, or one of my brothers or sisters, told someone of their approaching demise—how and when it would occur. How could that person prepare to face it?”
Dugan struggled for a response.
“Throughout my service to Saredhel, nearly everyone I have come into contact with has asked the same question at some time or another. I find it amazing so many wish to leap into things for which they’re not ready.” Gilban adopted a more scholarly tone. “Would you plant a field without first plowing it?”
“No, I guess not.”
“Exactly.” Gilban nodded. “You wouldn’t get a crop. So it is with these matters. You have to let life make ready the field by plowing it with experience. Then the vision can be planted, the words shared and allowed to grow through time and understanding. If you didn’t follow this method, you would do more harm to both the seed and the soil rather than produce a bounty of richness for life.
“However”—Gilban raised a warning finger—“you must learn what to plant in a field and what will grow.” His pure-white eyes fixed upon Dugan’s face. “One could not escape death if he were destined to die, as all things are. Some as blackened cinders.”
Dugan squinted for a long moment before departing with pounding steps.
“What was that all about?” Alara asked, watching Dugan quicken his step for the bow of the boat.
“There are great wars being fought inside him. Battles which would put the Imperial Wars to shame,” he confided. “But I said what was necessary.”
“Will he be okay?” Alara took another worried glance at the retreating gladiator.
“It’s difficult to say. Even a brick wall crumbles when enough pressure is applied.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of speaking in metaphors?”
“Not when they answer so potently,” he replied, taking a seat near the rudder.
While Dugan, Gilban, and Alara were talking, Cadrissa was lost in a world of her own. Scattered around her in a neat semicircle lay a collection of scrolls and tomes of varying sizes. The majority she kept in the open chest beside her, with a few more in her backpack. She’d first purchased the chest after she started her instruction at the academy in Haven. Lined with cedar, it supposedly kept safe from vermin any parchment or paper placed within. It also had the added benefit of making everything smell like cedar.
About thigh length and half that in width, it couldn’t hold much, but she had enough for her trip. While she would have enjoyed traveling with more of a library, she hadn’t amassed a sizable one of her own yet. And then there was the whole matter of needing to carry and transport everything. That could get tiring and expensive fairly fast. And they really had only just started their journey. So what she’d taken were the bare essentials, and so far it was serving her well.
She made every effort to take in as much information as possible in the time she had. These respites were golden opportunities, and the others were counting on her to help decipher and maybe even verify whatever they find. She needed to be ready for just about anything, and that meant keeping her mind sharp.
She took another bite of a dry biscuit—the entirety of her breakfast—washing it down with fresh water from a tin cup beside her. She thought again of how fortunate she was to be able to do what she was doing. Only a few hundred years ago she would have been hounded by fearful people seeking to put an end to her life, or would have had to hide away to learn more about—let alone engage in—magic. And now, here she was seeking more knowledge and using what she’d learned openly. Truly, as was often repeated in the Haven Academy, these were good days to be a wizard. And the thought of getting to see some dranoric ruins? Well, that was a once-in-a-lifetime event. And who was to say what she might find there? Such knowledge just waiting for her to lay hold of it . . . The thought brought a broad grin to her face.
“And what are you so happy about?”
“What?” Cadrissa awoke from her daydream to find Vinder’s bearded face peering down at her. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smiling or not wearing his armor. She’d met up with the dwarf in Altorbia after being recruited in Haven near the academy. Neither talked to the other much, tending to keep to themselves and their own interests, which suited Cadrissa just fine. More time to study.
“You haven’t strayed too far from your pile since we’ve met. I thought it was time to see what’s got you by the nose.”
“Plenty.”
“Something useful for the mission?” He scanned the assortment of works cluttering the deck.
“Yes and no.”
Vinder snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That some matters are still a bit inconclusive.”
“Inconclusive? All that time reading this drivel and you haven’t found anything useful?”
“I wouldn’t call it drivel.” A defensive streak arose in her.
“If it isn’t going to help us, then that’s what it is to me. I thought you were brought along for a purpose. Dugan can at least swing a sword but all you got is books, which apparently have no answers.”
“Were you even awake last night in that fight?” She braved raising her voice.
“Okay,” Vinder weakly admitted, “you have some magical talent, but that isn’t enough where we’re going.”
“It isn’t.” It was more a statement than a question.
“No. We need to know what we’re up against.” Vinder again studied the volumes and scrolls as he spoke. “That’s why Alara and Gilban brought you on.”
“And to help protect you from it. Or have you forgotten we’ll be entering a potentially magically influenced area?” Cadrissa didn’t like the dwarf eyeing her things. It felt like a strange man ogling her baby. “Having someone who knows about magic is a wise precaution.”
“Maybe you just need someone else looking things over.” Vinder reached down and retrieved a fairly slender tome near his right foot. “I can read other languages too, you know.”
“Be careful with that.” She reached for the book, but Vinder pulled it away as he turned a page. “Well, here’s your problem. You’re not even reading about the right subject.”
“And how would you know?” She tried another grab for the tome but was denied. “These books are ra
re treasures.” She hoped Vinder heard more of the rebuke in her tone and less of the pleading. “I got many of them from my schooling. I even had to copy some myself because of the age of the master texts.”
Paying her little mind, he began reading aloud a section of text that had caught his eye. “And so it was that in the Third Age of the Wizard Kings, there arose the two paths to higher arcane pursuits: the path of knowledge and the path of power. It was from these paths that new evils and greater goods erupted in a celebrated dispersal of magical delight.” The dwarf’s lone eye pierced Cadrissa with a hard glare. “Now I wonder what you might be so interested in reading about wizard kings for.”
“Don’t you have something else you need to do?”
“Yeah, watching my back.” Vinder closed the book with a snap. “You and I both know the wizard kings were a blight on Tralodren. Even the dwarven histories say it was decreed by the gods that the world be rid of them.”
“You’re wrong,” Cadrissa weakly rebutted.
“I thought so.” He flashed a crooked smile. “Why would a wizardess as young as you come along on this journey unless they were foolish or ambitious?”
“What are you getting at?”
“I didn’t know which at first, but now I see you’re foolishly ambitious.” He grimly nodded. “What better place to go than to the heart of a ruin said to hold ancient knowledge? Knowledge that just might aid you on the same path of the very people you’ve been reading up on.”
Cadrissa lifted her chin and glared through Vinder’s accusations and innuendoes. “You barely know me. How can you judge me?”
“Apparently with an open book,” he replied.
“First of all, you’re talking about things hundreds of years ago, back when fear and misunderstanding filled people’s minds about magic and those who practiced it. I just want a chance to be enlightened, helping those I can along the way.”
Vinder held his stare, but she wasn’t going to let herself wilt under it. “And you’ll need me soon enough once we find those ruins.”
“Bah!” Vinder shoved the book back to Cadrissa, who cradled it to her chest. “Just keep your motives from hindering this mission. What you do after it is on your own head. But I want to live through this, if you don’t mind. And that gladiator has already raised the stakes high enough. I don’t need you adding any more headaches.” Vinder stomped off toward the stern. Cadrissa glared after him, letting his final words needle her a little longer. She was so engrossed in the matter she didn’t hear Dugan’s approach.
“This a bad time?”
Before she knew what she was doing, she was greeted with Dugan’s naked torso. “N-no.” She slowly worked her gaze up the hills of muscle undulating across his frame. “I’m fine, really.” She tried making a conscious effort to close her mouth after speaking. “How about you?” She bit her lip upon realizing how foolish she sounded.
Dugan didn’t seem to notice. “I heard some of what you said.”
“Oh.” Her countenance faded. “Come to lecture me too, have you?”
“No, just thought you might be able to answer a question.” He paused, studying her features. She felt her heart skip a beat and straightened her back, feigning a confidence she didn’t possess. Drawn to the stylized eagle branding mark on Dugan’s shoulder, it took a moment before she realized he was waiting for a response.
“Of—of course.” She placed the tome she’d been cradling in her lap at her side and fixed some strands of hair behind her ear. “I’d be happy to help if I can.” There was an inner fire that radiated out of him, a confidence and strength that was lacking in many of the other men she’d come across. Of course, none of those at the academy had lived the same life as Dugan, either. She didn’t know if that was a bad thing or a good thing just yet, but she was enjoying the learning process.
“What do you know about the gods?” He squatted level with her.
“I didn’t picture you as someone interested in theology.”
“I’m not. I just need some information, and you don’t speak in riddles.”
“Had your fill of Gilban already?” Cadrissa teased.
“You heard of Rheminas?”
She nodded. “Some call him the Burning God.”
“How powerful is he?”
“You mean in the pantheon? Well, there are gods more powerful than Rheminas, and there are many who oppose his will and actions. It depends on whom you believe on the topic, as all priests will tell you their god is the strongest.” When Dugan’s attention held fast, Cadrissa elaborated. “However, even gods of lesser power don’t hold him in the highest of favor. Drued, Aerotripton, and Panthora all hate him—but they’re weaker than him. Ganatar, Asora, Dradin, Olthon, Causilla, and Perlosa care little for him also.
“From what I gather, he’s not that well received in many lands, but where he is, he’s held up for his more peaceful boons—the sun and fire and such. It’s only a few individuals who worship him for his darker, destructive aspects.” Dugan looked as if weighing every word with careful deliberation. It was hardly the sort of thing she would have expected, given their brief time together. Truly the man was worth some further study.
“Does that help?”
“It’ll do for now.” He stood.
“Are you looking for a new religion to follow?” Cadrissa blurted.
“Something like that.” He made his way to the bow of the ship, leaving Cadrissa to appreciate the breadth of his massive shoulders and certain other aspects of his anatomy made more evident by his departure.
“If you need anything else, I’m more than willing to help,” she called after him.
“I’ll remember that.” He responded with a backward glance which made her hope he’d be quick in honoring his word.
A few days later, thanks to favorable weather, Cadrissa’s magic, and some prayers from Gilban, the ragtag company began packing their belongings as they sailed into port. The day was half over when the group finally managed to get ashore. As they strode through the streets into Elandor, the smells and sounds of the lively locale filled Dugan with excitement. The rich, salty aromas of the sea mixed with the scent of freshly cooked meats and spices from the far south. These engrossing odors mingled with soft music and a chorus of voices around the docks.
He saw Telborians mingling with Elyellium and handfuls of Celetors here and there. A few halflings even milled about the pools of people. He’d heard stories about them too, and had actually seen a few when he was young. He’d forgotten how short they were, almost like children who refused to grow any older. And then there were the odd dwarf and gnome appearing amid the brightly colored sails and screeching gulls. The gnomes were another race he’d heard of more than seen, only spotting one in passing when he was first taken to the arena. They fell about equal to a dwarf in height, resembling smaller versions of Telborians, he supposed, in many ways.
He smiled to himself as he tried to take everything in. He no longer donned a hood. Here he was free. No more elven masters, no more of the torture and killings. No more worrying about bleeding his life away on the arena’s sand. Dressed in his new attire he felt like a human being, and not some animal kept for sport. A human being in a new world that was ripe for his exploration and enjoyment. And it all came from an elf saving a slave.
He laughed inside at the thought of this freedom. Once he completed this mission, he could live in any Telborian land as a free member of society, reclaiming his life and making it anew. He’d never really experienced life in a human city before; it almost seemed foreign to him. But in many ways it resembled civic life in the elven communities from which he came. And the longer he walked Elandor’s streets, the more familiar and right it felt.
“You can rest and look around, if you wish, before we meet up again.” Alara addressed the others as they traveled in a group. “Gilban and I will make sure the inn’s ready to receive us, but aside from that, we don’t have any pressing business until later this evening.”
“Where we meeting?” Dugan asked as they moved through the wide and crowded streets of the market district, just east of the docks.
“We’ve made arrangements at the Mangy Griffin. It’s off to the north of the docks, just past the temple of Ganatar and before the granary.” Alara helped Gilban over an uneven patch of flagstone. “Feel free to explore the city, like I said, and keep an ear open for any rumors about ancient cities or recent elven activity in the area. We’ll meet back at the Mangy Griffin before dusk.”
“You do know it’s the summer solstice, right?” Cadrissa inquired.
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
“No,” she returned. “You’ve just given us quite a bit of time before dusk, is all.”
“Then use it wisely. We’ll see you back at the inn.” At this, Vinder and Cadrissa stepped away from the group in opposite directions. Alara continued helping Gilban, leading him, presumably, toward the inn. Dugan followed.
Gilban freed himself from the constant crowds by heading to a large plaza and taking some rest on a wooden bench a few feet from a delicately crafted blue quartz fountain. Dugan noticed the fountain resembled a dolphin carrying a Telborian boy on its back. The dolphin appeared to be leaping from the fountain with the spray of water around it, the laughing child hugging the dolphin’s dorsal fin with simple joy. He caught himself smiling at the child and his carefree sense of freedom. He waited until Alara left Gilban and entered a local shop before starting for the bench.
“Yes, Dugan?” Before he was less than seven feet from him, Gilban had cast his face in his direction. “I wondered how long you could hold out. You’ve done well so far. A mark of true inner strength and dedication.”
“What do you mean?” He hesitated.
“Don’t be so ill at ease.” Gilban beckoned him with an open palm. “Come sit beside me and we’ll talk.” After Dugan cautiously took his seat, Gilban continued. “I know of the battle inside you.”
