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A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos)

Page 12

by Wilkerson, Brian


  “But you're my lieutenant!” the man protested, “You're supposed to be supportive of me!” Eric and Nolien turned to the paling Tiza. She kneed a captain!

  “I apologize for the captain; he got away from me.”

  “No, we're the ones who should apologize,” Nolien said. “It was our teammate who kneed him.”

  “He was hitting on me!” Tiza protested.

  “That doesn't mean you should actually hit him,” Nolien countered. Tiza crossed her arms.

  “You must be from Squad Five,” Eric said.

  “Why yes we are,” the woman said, “Why do you ask?” Eric explained their mission. “I'm sorry, but his favorite snack escapes me. Follow me and I'll show you.” She lifted the Captain of Squad Five over her shoulder. “By the way, I'm Azir and the captain is Orku.”

  With the Lieutenant of Squad Five leading them, the trio of novices walked through a wooden door marked by a crossed sword and staff. Everyone there wanted to meet all three of them. In the captain's office, Azir set Orku on his chair and examined the pantry. She pulled out a box of crackers.

  “Thank you,” Nolien said. “That's everything.”

  From the Red Town of Sword and Staff they walked to the next district of the city, the Yellow Town of Trade and Creativity. Eric was relieved to see the sun still high in the sky and crowds still walking from store to store. He hadn't been here since Redstreak escorted him. It was quite a sight now that he had time to appreciate it.

  Small box retail lined both sides of every street. At opposing ends were two malls known as “Tesla Outlet Savings” and “Edison SuperStore.” The air was alive with the smell of hot dogs and coffee. Most amazing of all were the many different creatures doing business with humans like it was normal. It IS normal here. I just have to get used to it.

  Nolien assigned who should buy what, which set Tiza off as to why he got to decide, which made him demand why it mattered, and all the while Eric stood by, helpless. I'd probably say the wrong thing and make it worse. I'm never good enough, not here and not on Threa. Someone bumped into him and jostled him out of his self-defeating thoughts.

  “Oh sorry, Roomy!” a cheerful voice said.

  “Aio?” The face of his former roommate smiled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Proof of Skill.” Aio replied, then covered his mouth with both hands. “Oops, not supposed to say that. Well anyway, wish me luck.” Locking eyes with Eric, he continued, “You've already passed this test, so you must have done something right.”

  The next instant he melted into the crowd. So comforting was this reminder, Eric didn't realize how convenient Aio's appearance was. By now his teammates had sorted out the duties and gave Eric his, which he accepted without comment. Back at the Dragon's Lair, the trio unloaded their spoils on Mia's desk.

  “Yep! It's all here. Great work!” Mia reached into that extra space of hers and pulled out a money bag. “Here's your pay.” Tiza snatched it.

  “Our pay!? This is just enough to cover what we paid for the snacks!”

  “Why, of course,” Mia said. “Getting the snacks wasn't the point of the mission, silly.”

  “Then what was the point of running all over the guild?!” Tiza screamed in her face.

  “Discovering the point . . .” Nolien said softly. “That's the point, isn't it?”

  Mia's smile widened. “Go on.”

  “Each team is composed of one member from Squads One-Three, so each team would have to go to each other's lounge in order to complete this mission. Further, there were two squads the team would have to find themselves, and thus go places they wouldn't otherwise. The point of this 'mission' wasn't to find out what kinds of snacks the captains liked, but to get to know the guild and the people in it.”

  “Bingo!” Mia chirped. “You've got a good head on your shoulders. When did you figure it out?” The same type of smug self-satisfaction that crossed Tiza's face earlier now graced Nolien's. It was scary how similar they looked.

  “I was suspicious when we had to introduce ourselves to everyone in each lounge, but what gave it away was running into Squad Five.” Nolien said. He reminded Eric of a super detective boasting how they solved a case. “They could have told us what we needed right then and there, but Lieutenant Azir insisted on going back to the lounge where we had to meet everyone.”

  “Impressive; here's your real pay.” Mia handed them each a bag. Tiza smiled ear-to-ear and Eric founded himself smiling too; the bag was heavy. They opened it and found a slip of paper and a rock.

  “Is this another joke!?” Tiza demanded.

  “Look at the paper,” Mia said.

  All three read, “Believe in yourself, but depend on each other, and you will always triumph.”

  “A reward like that will serve you your whole lives and not just as a mercenary.” The three novices looked from the paper, to each other, and back again.

  Tiza crumpled it up and threw it away. “We're getting paid in gold time, right?”

  Nolien put the paper down. “I will remember it, Miss Mia.”

  Eric shrugged. It sounds like a fortune cookie . . . He shoved it in his pocket.

  Mia reached into her extra space and pulled out another slip of paper. “Upon completion of the mission, the novices are to report to the training hall. Basilard Bladi.”

  Tiza cheered. Nolien sighed. Eric shrugged. All of them walked to the training hall. Eric remembered to watch his head.

  When the sun fell and night approached, Basilard called a halt to training and told them to get ready for dinner. Eric was tired but not as much as he used to be. Tiza seemed to have more energy and Nolien looked ready to collapse, for which Tiza teased him mercilessly.

  “Dinner won't be for a little while yet, so clean up if you want.”

  The mess hall was underground and deep within the guild. Basilard liked to think of it as the dragon's stomach. The entrance was a double oak door and, like others in the guild, it had its own crest: a spoon and fork crossed behind a plate. Basilard pushed the door open and pointed to the back.

  “Look there, at the head table,” Basilard said. “That's our guildhead, Ridley the Dragoness.” As Eric's gaze fell upon the much-exalted Leader. He was in awe.

  She was a tall woman with hair as black as night. She wore a dark coat enlined with silver that fell to her knees. Black pants and silver bracers covered her legs and on her arms were black and silver gauntlets. A silver circlet with a brown gem rested on her forehead. The gem was cracked through the middle like a slitted eye. Beneath it, her own eyes radiated power. At once, Eric knew why Basilard spoke so proudly of her; she looked like a legend made of flesh.

  “Eric Watley,” she called. “Nolien Iteleh. Tiza Sprial.”

  “Yes, Leader?” they answered.

  “Come up here.”

  She smiled and group hugged them. To Eric it was like a blanket of protection; he felt absolutely safe in her arms. If Retis was like an older brother, then Ridley was like a mother.

  “HEY, EVERYONE!” The voice of the Dragoness cut through the chatter and silence fell. “This is Tiza Sprial, a new novice of Squad One, Nolien Iteleh of Squad Two, and Eric Watley of Squad Three. What does that make them to you?”

  “Family!”

  “And what does family do?”

  “Fight!” the second chorus thundered. No wonder everyone is so rough . . .

  “And what does family do after that?”

  “Drink to long health and happiness!”

  “Mock the losers!”

  “Heal with experimental remedies,” said a certain captain.

  And one hundred and one other things. Well, that's one way to bring a family together . . .

  “Do you hear them?” Ridley asked the novices. “This Guild is our home and everyone in it is family. Everyone here will treat you like annoying younger siblings, be they human, orc, elf or anything else.” She turned back to the guild at large. “All right, everyone, dig in!”

  The mess
hall was lit by glowing crystals that covered the ceiling like stars. In the center was a roaring fire whose warmth spread to every corner. The table and chairs were made of the same basalt as the rest of the building. Sitting there was every sort of human, humanoid, demon, and miscellaneous creature with a soul. All of them talked together, ate together, and occasionally farted together. Eric was unfortunate enough to be nearby when it happened.

  Laharg the Orc passed a plate to a little girl with wings. She was sitting on his back with her tiny legs around his neck. She accepted the plate and placed it on her personal table.

  There was a lady flanked by a pack of dogs with which she shared a plate. A man wearing a top hat shoveled a great deal of food into said hat and put it on. Then he grabbed more food and ate with a great deal more refinement than his fellows. Sitting next to this clean eater was a blonde guy carrying plants in his pockets, a staff on his back, and a cow's stomach on his plate. Sitting next to him was a big fellow who, after eating everything on his plate, ate the plate itself. The plate eater was promptly smacked by a chef sitting at his side and then ate the ladle he was smacked with.

  “I can eat a lot more food than you can!” a boy shouted at his companion.

  “No, you can't!” she shouted back.

  “Yes, I can!”

  “I would advise both of you to show restraint,” Jemas said. “Captain Hasina has a new stomach pain remedy she wants to try out.” The two young people paled and slowed down.

  Eric turned his attention to his own team. Tiza grabbed as much food as she could and ate it as fast as she could. Basilard patted her back when she choked. Then he turned to his own plate, which was filled with raw meat. He sucked it as if to drink the blood. Nolien looked green since the meal began and didn't touch anything. Once Eric subdued any food that would bite him, he began eating.

  Chapter 6 The First Mission

  Small, cheap, and convenient described Eric's new home. It was vacant when he moved in because it was actually the bridge connecting the Red Town of Warriors with the Orange Town of Sailors, officially known as “Cutlass Bridge.” Morning rush hour was better than any alarm clock.

  Eric rubbed sleep from his eyes and began his morning exercise. To his surprise, others were already there on his roof. They invited him to practice throws, but he excused himself with “gotta go to work” and instead practiced in an alley. Afterward, he left for breakfast at the guild's mess hall.

  Nolien greeted him at the door. “Morning, Eric,” He yawned. “How did you sleep?”

  “All right, you?”

  “Very well.” With a touch of smugness, he added, “My landlord is most hospitable.”

  They entered the lobby and Mia's bright smile greeted them. “Good morning, you two!” How can she be cheerful so early?

  “Oh, yeah, great news!” She reached into Nolien's ear and pulled out a piece of paper. “I have your first mission right here. Team Four was personally requested.” She scratched her head. “It's kinda odd for a brand new team to get requests, but, oh well.”

  “A request?” It was Basilard. “That is unusual. What is it?”

  “The Royal Apothecary.” Mia handed him the mission bill. “One of her attendants came to deliver the request.” Why would they request us if we were formed yesterday?

  “We can't ignore a request, now, can we?” Basilard said, “Let's go to the castle.”

  Nolien touched a string on his neck. “Is there something wrong with the castle?”

  “Oh no, not the castle. Everyone I pass seems to lift their nose a little higher.”

  “We are mercenaries. They're not obliged to be friendly.”

  Basilard shrugged. “If I'm right about this mission, you won't want breakfast.”

  “Good luck!” Mia called and waved goodbye.

  To find Tiza's home, they followed the banging of hammers on anvils. While Eric lived under a bridge, Tiza lived under a blacksmith. The shop was two stories tall and marked by a sign declaring, “Arsenal Lodge.” Both it and the front were made from shields.

  The inside was four walls and eight aisles of weapons: small ones, big ones, huge ones; weapons made of metal, wood, ceramic, and even fire or lightning. The last two were kept in a glass case with Elvin Imports written above. Basilard walked straight to the counter and rang the bell.

  “Hey, Jacks, how's business?”

  “Hey, Belard. With the joust coming up, business is very good. “

  “How's Tiza?”

  “Nice girl,” the man replied. “ A little rough around the edges . . .”

  “And everywhere else,” said a teenage boy behind him. He was pounding on a shield and there were a dozen more on either side.

  “Hush!” He turned back to Basilard. “She's been practicing in her room for hours. As far as I know, she hasn't had breakfast.”

  Basilard nodded. “I trust you got her outfitted?”

  “Yes, Belard, I gave your niece all she needs: armor with protective runes, shield to increase awareness, extra runes for the sword that include durability and slicing power, a helmet made from discarded dragon scales, etc. Retina and Sathel came by and paid for it all.”

  “Thanks.” Basilard picked a tub of rust-remover from a bin on the counter.

  “You're welcome.” Ax accepted the payment. “Will the mages need anything?”

  Nolien lifted his nose and said, “No.”

  Eric turned out his pockets and said, “I don't have any money.”

  Basilard left the store and re-entered by a set of stairs in the back. At the bottom was another shield-door. He knocked until he heard, “What's with the racket? I'm practicing.”

  “We have a mission.” One could almost see Tiza's mood lifting.

  “Out in a minute.”

  When a girl said she needed “a minute” to get ready, Eric heard it was more like half an hour. His older brother complained about it so often he'd taken it as fact. Less than a minute later, Tiza walked out, still strapping on her targe.

  “Aren't those the clothes you wore yesterday?” Nolien asked.

  Tiza looked up from her straps and scowled. “What's your point?”

  Nolien sighed and said, “Nothing.”

  Eric could see the castle from the forge, but it was obscured by other buildings. Basilard led them to it with the air of someone assigned a month of toilet cleaning. Watching messy Tiza and prim Nolien walk side by side made the reason crystal clear.

  There were four entrances to the castle; one at each of the cardinal directions. Watch towers guarded , The castle itself was an island surrounded by a moat. Even in his mundane world, there could be fearsome things in those waters and he shuddered to think what a magical one would be filled with. Behind the moat was a curtain wall so tall he could only see the central tower.

  Two soldiers guarded the drawbridge. “State your business, sir.”

  Basilard handed them the bill. “We are Team Four of the Dragon's Lair and we're here on a job for the Royal Apothecary.”

  One guard ran a crystal over it then signaled her counterpart on the other side. “Proceed.”

  Basilard led his team across the drawbridge to the opened iron gate at the base of the curtain wall, where he showed another soldier the mission bill. After another inspection, he signaled his counterpart on the wall and waved the mercenaries forward.

  Between the curtain wall and the castle itself were microcosms of the city: residential houses, an orchard, a blacksmith, a boutique, a bakery, and a brewery. Each was marked with the royal crest. They must be government owned . . . maybe in case of a siege.

  Up close, Eric saw that there was indeed nothing wrong with the castle. It was magnificent; a grand structure as tall as a skyscraper made from granite, marble, and steel. From its walls to its towers to its drawbridge, intricate designs were engraved in gold and silver. At first, he thought they were runes, but they could be decoration. At the gate to the castle proper, Basilard showed the mission bill to a third guard, whose gen
der Eric couldn't determine.

  On the first three floors, the royal's castle resembled the mercenary's guild: warriors going to and fro in partial armor or casual clothing, the walls were almost bare of ornamentation, and the floor was somewhat dirty. Basilard even waved and clasped hands. The only difference Eric could see was the royal seal engraved in iron plaques on walls and doors. The only extravagance was in the entrance hall and the stairs to the higher levels.

  On the next three floors, the change began; the people were smartly dressed and carried books instead of swords. Pictures hung and suits of armor stood between them. Eric felt uneasy; the atmosphere was vaguely uncomfortable. He glanced at Tiza and Nolien; she gagged, he fidgeted.

  Eric realized he truly was in a royal castle on the seventh floor; rich carpets and delicate engravings of gold and silver and all of them stylized after the royal seal. Instead of suits of armor, marble statues graced the halls. The people they passed dressed in jewelry and silk, especially a gaggle of noble girls and their leader.

  She was slender, elegant, and wore her hair in ringlets. The crest of the Noble House of Heleti adorned her bodice; a griffin carrying a staff and a sword. Nolien subtly slid behind his mentor to escape her sight. The girl saw him anyway, but pretended she didn't. Indeed, she pretended not to notice any of them and instead talked about the price of peas in Persephone. Nolien sighed in relief.

  The people of this floor seemed to shout, “You aren't welcome here. We will tolerate your presence only so long.” They didn't say this, but the way they walked on the other side of the hall spoke for them. The fact that Team Four needed an escort spoke volumes as well.

  The soldier pair stopped. “The Office of the Royal Apothecary.”

  The back wall was entirely windows with velvet curtains. A carpet was spread on the floor and golden braziers hung from the ceiling. To either side were shelves with exotic bottles. The Apothecary herself sat behind a fine wood desk and was more elaborately dressed than the room itself.

  She was an old shrew; a shrew whose fur had greyed with age. It was thick and shiny, as if old age had only changed the color. It puzzled Eric until he realized it could be magic as opposed to shampoo . . . Unless it was magic shampoo. How would one make magic shampoo? He was brought out of his thoughts by a pinch on the arm.

 

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