by Brian Beam
Since most wizards do not have the choice of legally using humans for their spells and do not wish to lose their minds, some sort of animal is usually used. For example, wizards who do research or use magic in their own home may have a pet cat or dog. Some even keep animals as big as bears caged up to be used. Wizards on the go may have a stash of small energy sources such as insects on them. Usually small sources like that are good for one spell each and typically can’t be used for extremely complex spells. They usually don’t live through the process. Sometimes these wizards still keep one slightly larger animal with them that can be used for more complex magic. What some people have thought to be a wizard’s familiar will actually be an animal used solely to create their spells such as a bird on their shoulder or a leashed dog.
Personally, I don’t agree with using animals that don’t die with a single use. Magic can do some wonderful things and I in no way think it should be abolished, but death is much more humane than destroying a mind. Max typically agrees with my beliefs. He normally uses fleas for his magic. Did you think a wizard cat would have fleas if it didn’t want them?
What Max had done to Menar could not have been done with fleas, though. They could only be used for simple spells. Since that rabbit Max caught had still been alive, Max was able to use it for his magic. If need hadn’t been such an issue, Max would have never done such a thing. That just brought up the issue on why Max had used me for the spell. He had healed me with his typical sources before. I seriously doubted he had just run out of fleas all of a sudden.
My mouth didn’t seem to want to work, to form words. What if I had lost my mind in the process? Why did Max take such a risk? “Why?” was the only word I could voice in my shock.
Looking remorseful, Max let out a sigh. “Korin, you were much worse off than you thought. Riding Telis for as long as you did with wounds like that had put you closer to death than I could have healed without a stronger source of energy than fleas or even myself. You would have died otherwise. I was worried enough about you that it didn’t even occur to me to try and use Telis for the energy. I thought you were lost to me.”
I could only nod slowly, my eyes unable to fix on anything. The more I thought about the situation, the more I worried myself. What if I had lost some important part of myself: memories, personality traits, or skills? Would I notice if a certain part of me was gone if it was never pointed out to me?
Max obviously could tell I was pretty torn up about the situation and finally walked up and set his forepaws on my leg. “Korin, you should be alright. It is very rare for a human to have lasting effects from something like this when it only happens once. Most wizards have found themselves having to use their own body for a source of magic energy at some point in their lives. I had to use myself for the energy to heal my own injuries. Plus, as I already said, you would have died without me doing what I did. Korin, I do not know what I would have done if that had happened.”
As if I didn’t feel bad enough, I felt even more guilt about what I had done to Max after that last sentiment of his. Yes, something bad could have come about, but it didn’t. I wouldn’t have done anyone any good if I had died. “Sorry, Max. I was out of my head for a minute there. I should’ve known you’d never deliberately hurt me.”
“Korin, you coud not help what you did. Your mind noticed something missing even if it was nothing that could cause a permanent effect on you. Your mind reacted to the loss through emotion. In this case, excessive anger. This doesn’t happen to everyone, but your body was so weak that I think it affected you more heavily. That is why you passed out. You had every right to be mad at me, but your body amplified what you normally would have felt. You should be back at an equilibrium soon.”
Although I felt guilty about what I had done to Max, anger started to seep back in. Not the abnormal anger from before, but anger over the same issue: Max hiding so much from me.
“Max, I need you to be honest about what’s going on,” I stated simply. “Frankly, I’m a little scared right now. And Max, I killed a man last night.” Saying it out loud was easier than I thought it would be, but still felt like a stab to my heart.
Max brought his paws back down to the ground and rested back on his haunches, looking away from me uncomfortably. It wasn’t like him to not be able to look me in the eye. “Korin, I’m sorry, I cannot tell you everything. I can tell you that Menar knows the two of us and has reasons to kill you. Nothing justifiable, but reasons enough for him.” Max did look pleadingly at me then. “Please, Korin. You are just not ready to know about it yet. If anything, I would be putting you in danger if I told you. Please, trust me.”
I had never heard that tone come from Max. He had always been so confident. His supplication was way out of character for him. With a heavy sigh and a nod of my head, I accepted that I should trust him. Max was not one to outright lie to me. If he truly believed it to be in my best interests to stay in the dark, I knew I should listen, but I didn’t have to be happy about it.
“And Korin, do not take what happened to that man to heart. He was trying to kill you. You did not have any other choice. You are going to need to be able to deal with things like that.” There seemed to be a touch of sadness to his raspy voice.
I was still having trouble finding my voice and so I simply nodded again. Why did I need to be able to deal with killing? No one should have to need to deal with—or be comfortable in dealing with—anything like that.
Strangely, though, I did feel better already. Maybe just having someone voice that it was justified and that there hadn’t been any other way was what I needed to begin accepting what I had done and start to move on.
With that thought, I stood and twisted from side to side to try to relieve some of the pain and tension from being thrown onto my back. The morning air was chilly on my bare chest. I looked down at Max seriously, expecting at least one answer that I truly deserved to know. “Will Menar be after us?”
“Sadly, he may. Not for a while at least. He had some kind of magical barrier protecting him from injury, but I think it will take him a while to get out from under the rubble from the building I pulled down on him.” I found myself laughing at Max’s nonchalance concerning collapsing a building on someone. “What?” he asked with an expression of confusion.
“Nothing,” I laughed. At least now I knew what the explosion I had heard the night before was. My mirth faded as I thought about what that meant for the two men that had been with him, making my stomach churn. Wasn’t one life lost enough? I kept the thought to myself.
“Anyway,” he persisted, more like himself in that he was obviously annoyed at my interruption, “I do not think that his barrier will hold up well after my attack, if it holds up at all. Spells like that typically can only take so much abuse. I have magically covered our tracks just in case he makes it through. After last night I feel like I swam the Galryth channel about fifty times, but we are alive and healed, and hopefully safe from him.”
Magic can be worked in two ways, or so Max tells me. One is short term and requires constant focus like what Max did when he pinned Menar and his lackeys to the wall and pulled a building down on them. The other is long term and requires anywhere from hours to days to create, as well a ton of energy, such as the barrier that Max had seen around Menar. Both are useful, but only the ones requiring constant focus can be used in a pinch.
Mentally, I added Menar to the bottom of my list of concerns that started with finding the Kolarin followed by coming to terms with killing someone who had tried to kill me. Menar was a valid concern im my mind, though. Although it was an unlikely enough coincidence that I ran into him in the first place, I would have to be pretty naïve to believe it wouldn’t happen again. I let my mind turn away from the negative thoughts.
I looked out at the forested mountains in the distance, the sun just high enough to silhouette the pinnacles in gold. “Where to now?”
Max turned towards the mountains as well. “I can only assume our thief i
s making his way back to Isaeron given the direction he was heading” he explained with a yawn. “I do not have his trail anymore, but we can continue on in that direction and attempt to find his trail again. If I can stay awake, that is.”
After being right on the Kolarin’s trail, I hated that our plan had become so ambiguous. Well, it was what it was. All we could do was press on.
I looked down at Max. “First, since I officially have no wearable shirts, I’m going to get my cloak over where I used to be before being rudely thrown over here,” I teased with a smirk, pointing to my cloak. “Then, I’m going to go get my sword that was so impolitely yanked from my hand and then maybe we can get something to eat and get moving,” I finished as I pointed off towards my discarded sword.
My teasing was ignored the second I had brought up food. “Ah, now you’re talking,” Max purred. “Too bad the stew was ruined. You’ll owe me some more when we can get another cookpot.”
I laughed again. It felt good. Somehow, I felt better about everything. Not good, but better. I figured that once Max picked up the Kolarin’s trail, life would continue to get better and maybe even easier. As per usual, I was wrong.
Chapter 6
Dragoned Away
There was no way around it, I stank. Sure, Max had gotten me cleaned up just the morning prior, but hours on a horse, sweaty fights, and sleeping on the ground are not effective ways to keep smelling, or looking, fresh.
With Max scouting ahead in an attempt to locate the Kolarin’s tracks and the farmhouse I had seen that morning being on my northwestern route towards Isaeron, I figured that it couldn’t hurt trying to trade a couple coins to clean myself up at the farmhouse. The Kolarin couldn’t increase the gap between us by too much if I stopped for just a few minutes. Besides, maybe they’d have a shirt I could buy off them. Travelling in a just a cloak and pants does not really keep you warm and it just plain looks silly.
The house was a simple wooden cottage painted white with bright red trim around the windows and doors. The thatched roof overhung a porch that ran the length of the front of the house. Smoke rose from the chimney. Beside the cottage was a black barn and a tall stone silo. An empty horse cart lay unused in front of the barn and beside it was a water well. Gated black fencing held in a good number of pigs, cows, and sheep in separate pens. Fields of crops stretched out behind the barn. There was no actual road leading to the cottage, but cart tracks had worn a path to some extent towards the east to wherever the farmer traded or sold his crops.
Chopping wood in front of the barn was a tanned shirtless man of middle years. As he spotted me approaching on Telis, I waved a friendly hello. He set down his axe, wiped sweat from his forehead, and started towards me. The hefty pile of chopped wood behind him would have been enough to make anyone sweat even in the cool fall morning.
As he neared, I could see the touch of gray in his shaggy copper hair. His hooked nose led to a pair of paper thin lips and a square, stubbly chin. He stared at me quizzically through close-set brown eyes.
I hopped down from Telis’, holding his reins with one hand and stretching my other out in greeting. I put on a warm smile. “Good day, sir. My name’s Korin Karell. I’m just passing through on my travels.” I wondered if he noticed that I was sizing him up to determine if an old shirt of his would fit me. It would have been a little on the big side, but close enough.
The man smiled back, his weather-worn face creasing around his eyes and lips, and wiped his hands on his dirty trousers before bringing up a hand to clasp mine. “James McAlwain,” he responded, clasping my outstretched hand with his eyes flashing briefly to the sword at my side. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Reaching into the pouch in my coin purse, I presented a silver coin. “I was hoping that I could use your facilities to get cleaned up and maybe buy an old shirt off of you if you have one to spare.” As I stated my request, I couldn’t help but think about how strange it must have sounded. Then again, it couldn't be stranger than a random shirtless man with a sword showing up unexpectedly on a chill fall morning.
James reached towards my hand, but instead of taking the money, he closed my fingers back over the coin that was worth far more than a used shirt and the use of a washroom. “Put that away,” he laughed, his smile lines very prominent on his sun-darkened skin. “Come on in. We’ll get some food in you too. My wife Undula’s cooking a late breakfast as we speak.” With that, he gestured towards the cottage and started leading the way.
After spending so much time in cities around nobles and crooks, generosity seemed a rare commodity. It was refreshing to find it in James. “Thank you,” I replied, leading Telis behind him.
James continued to speak as I followed him. “I’m assuming you’re on your way to Nansunic’s temple in the Sanderon Mountains up north. Usually, the only people who come by here are on their way to see it. It’s just some old ruins now, but people are still interested.” I had no idea what he was talking about, but Nansunic is the god of livestock. No, really. I can’t make this stuff up. Why someone had built a temple to a god of livestock in the mountains was beyond me.
James continued to babble on about the ruined temple and how his farm was on blessed land being within thirty miles of the thing. He talked about how his ancestors had helped other families build the temple centuries ago so that they may be successful farmers. Only his family had remained on the land, the other farming families having moved on long ago.
Now, I’m not familiar with all the gods, but I am pretty sure that there is a god of crops, or plants, or something along those lines. Surely one of those gods or goddesses would have been a better choice to dedicate a temple to. I didn’t say so and just listened to the poor guy drone on and on as if he didn’t get much chance to talk to people who would listen.
At one point a boy in his late teens or early twenties who was the spitting image of a young James came running up to us from the barn. James deviated from his story long enough to introduce him as his son, Kipp, and told him to take Telis to the barn for a brushing and feeding. I grabbed my spare pair of green pants out of a saddlebag before letting Kipp lead Telis to the barn.
We were standing outside the cottage’s red-trimmed front door when James finally paused and I was able to get a word in. “Sounds like an interesting place. I’m on my way further north, but I’ll have to make a stop there.” Of course I didn’t mean it, but James was being so nice, I almost felt like it would hurt his feelings if I told him I had no plans whatsoever to see a temple dedicated to the god of livestock. I just wanted to get cleaned up and try to catch up to the Kolarin before I became Galius’ eternal slave.
James gave me a satisfied smile and pushed open the door. I was assaulted by the mouth-watering smells of breakfast being cooked in the kitchen. It smelled like pork chops, sausage gravy and fried eggs. Max would be crushed that he missed out on a home cooked meal. Especially if they were having pork chops and gravy. We had already eaten that morning, but the aromas coming from that kitchen would have rekindled anyone’s hunger.
The dark-paneled room we had entered was neat and orderly with a simple wooden rocking chair next to a full bookshelf with a wolf skin rug on the floor in front of it. On the other side of the room was red-cushioned chair with a basket of yarn and other knitting implements beside it. In the back was a stone fireplace, currently lit and giving a comfortable glowing warmth to the room. Shelves were filled with knick-knacks of all sorts and flower-filled clay vases. All in all, it felt almost too homey for its own good.
James led me into the kitchen where, as I had guessed, pork chops, eggs, and sausage gravy were cooking on the metal woodstove on the wall opposite from where we entered. A bright, multicolor-striped, knitted tablecloth covered a table in the center of the room. Who must have been Undula, a plump woman with graying dark hair in a bun and wearing a long, gray woolen dress with a white apron over it, was hunched over the stove. She was busy frantically flipping pork chops and eggs, and stirring th
e gravy. Plates on a table beside the stove already had piles of pork chops and fried eggs on them. There was way more food than necessary for her, James, Kipp, and myself.
“Ahem.” James cleared his throat to get Undula’s attention. She hadn’t heard us enter the room over the sounds of the sizzling food.
Undula spun towards the interruption. Frizzy gray hairs stuck out of the bun and hung around her round, sweaty face. Rosy cheeks and a button nose gave her a look of a kind and gentle woman. However, once her mouth opened, I understood why James had taken the opportunity to talk my ear off. To put it mildly, as soon as she began talking, she didn’t stop.
“Who’s this? Another visitor? Third one in two days. Not used to so much company. This one has a sword, huh? Some kind of soldier are you? Glad we’ve made so much extra food. Hope you like pork chops, young man. What am I saying, who doesn’t?” Her voice was like a squeaky door and was hard on the ears. At no point did she stop to ask my name or allow me to answer a question. She was in a tizzy as she tried to manage the food and set four place settings at the table while seeming to not even take time to take breaths between sentences. She didn’t hear James introduce me or say he was going to take me to get cleaned up and find me a shirt. I was pretty sure she didn’t notice us leave the room either, if her continued prattling behind us was any indicator.
I was about to stupidly say something about her constant chattering that would have probably offended James, but thankfully he didn’t give me the chance. “Sorry that I don’t have time to heat up any water for you,” he apologized as he led me back through the den and into a narrow hallway with a small bedroom on each side and a washroom at the end of it. “There’s some soapy wash water and a rag in the bucket in there and you can use the water in the ewer on the shelf to rinse off. Let me go find you a shirt.” With that, he stepped into one of the bedrooms. I considered myself lucky that he refrained from going into some kind of story about how the washroom was blessed by Nansunic or something.
