Tales Of Grimea

by Andrew Mowere

  Percy said “Regardless, it’s a fascinating puzzle. A poison as if to prove a point, a kind old man with a dangerous brother, and an inconsequential old psion receiving warnings, although not about the aforementioned poison.”

  “Uncle Salim would never help hurt you. Never an innocent, that’s how Mikhlab and their father have been able to stay popular for so long despite what they’re willing to do.”

  “Hmm… I might heed the warning, but maybe it would be best if I go visit your uncle first and see if he’d be willing to shed light on the situation. What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll go with you. I need to go tell him that I’ve gotten an outside job, just in case he has something planned for me.” With that, the two went on for home, agreeing to meet in the afternoon.

  When Hwosh had went and gotten enough supplies to last him a week, he spent the rest of his morning oiling up his leather and sword, checking up on his physique for any latent injuries from his last voyage, and paying up on his rent of a hundred and fifty Regalians before going out. He almost bumped into Adra, who had a bag of groceries in one hand. “Congrats on the new job!” she exclaimed before informing him that Percy was just getting ready. When the old man came out, Hwosh noticed that he’d dressed up a little finer than usual: His long hair was brushed extra fine and a new pair of darkened spectacles adorned his hawk like nose. Even more strange was the new pointy hat upon his head, for it had a pattern of white filled in stars on it. Naturally, Hwosh didn’t comment on his friend’s choice of clothing, and the two went south, towards Themra.

  “You know? I never asked,” said Hwosh as they neared the oasis. First in line was a Regalian knight in well-kept plate armour, who proceeded to allow an old man to fill up his drinking urn first. “How long have you been living in Lor?”

  “A couple of years,” answered Percy as the bald man beckoned the now confused knight over to drink first. “Long enough to figure that one out,” added the old man with a finger pointed at the two. The scene was something Hwosh had witnessed multiple times, and which Adra had explained to him as well, her being mostly Regalian. Whereas there people thought of chivalry as something young men offer to women and the elderly, in Lor it was a universal concept. You couldn’t offend someone by offering them your seat and thus implying weakness, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t just offer it back to you with a wide smile. It was considered polite and Lorians were more than willing to waste time going back and forth in that manner. This time the old man won, and the knight bent over to fill his water pouch looking slightly dishevelled as those around laughed. Hwosh stopped Percy to pick a few dates from a nearby tree.

  When they neared Uncle Salim’s home, he had just finished feeding four children as well as an older man with a white ring, and they were helping him clean up. Uncle Salim wasn’t too upset with Hwosh for not coming earlier and eating with him, but he still received a slight earful. “Here,” he said finally, motioning the other man over, “Say hello to your older brother, Mukhlis. This is the youngest, Hwosh.” The two shook hands, and he asked a few questions of the warrior. The man had pitch black eyes and was pale of skin, which perhaps hinted at Indellektian blood. “And what do you do?” asked Hwosh back, hoping that he sounded pleasant enough. Whenever one of the Baneen met him, he turned quickly into the butt of jokes, especially when uncle Salim was around.

  Surprisingly, instead of Mukhlis answering, a voice came from behind Hwosh, saying, “He’s Lor’s ambassador in Indellekt.” When the warrior looked around, he saw that it was Percy who’d spoken. The old man came up from behind him slowly, a look akin to wonder in his eyes. “I know you said that some of your brothers-“

  “We’re not really brothe-“

  “Are influential, but I didn’t think master Salim was this impressive. In Indellekt, Mukhlis Matr is such an impressive wizard that he’s the first Lorean to earn place in our ruling parliament. Master, my name is Percy, pleased to meet you finally.”

  “Ah, old Percy Verde, I’ve heard so much! This is the grizzled geezer I told you about, boy!” Uncle Salim ignored Percy’s outstretched hand and embraced him instead. “And believe me, Mukhlis has earned his position with no help from a tired old coot like me. Here, have a seat.” For a few minutes the two old men squabbled over where to sit, each offering the other the best spot on the floor. At long last Percy lost, giving in and sitting down with uncle Salim coming in next to him. Hwosh was of course last in line, and he was stuck next to Mukhlis, who bombarded him with questions about his training and work. Upon finding out that he’d spent long living in uncle Salim’s home, he laughed. “Indeed, he did that with all of us. You seem like a bright boy, I’m sure you’ll do well.”

  Hwosh’s attention wandered over to Percy just as the man stood up, saying, “So, what’s your favourite spot in Lor, master?” The man went walked over as if to look at something, and Hwosh realized he was fascinated by the cooling system here.

  “Themra, probably. It’s the only place that hasn’t changed much in all these years.”

  “Hahah, as nostalgic an answer as I could have hoped for,” retorted the psion, now moving over to the white writing table, the one well-crafted thing in the old man’s humble residence. “I hope I stay here long enough to say something like that… I hope Lor remains safe for me and others from Indellekt for many years to come.” For an instant nobody moved, then Mukhlis said, “Part of my job, mister Verde, is to make sure that remains the case. I assure you, Lor and Indellekt shall remain friends for many long years, no matter what happens.” This last part was said with fire not unlike Lor’s sun.

  After that, the conversation went back to lighter topics. Uncle Salim congratulated him on his job and bade him well. Hwosh and his companion left uncle Salim and Mukhlis a few hours before sundown, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Just before reaching Themra, Hwosh went over to a nearby bush and pulled out a pack that he’d left there when they came through earlier. “You read him, didn’t you? What did you find out?”

  “Nothing,” answered Percy. “I tried reading him, but it didn’t work.”

  The warrior pulled on his string of beads a little in surprise. “How come?” he asked, “Was he trained like me?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t get anything, so either he’s been well trained,” concluded the old man with a scratch, “or he was protected by magical ways. Either way, I’m staying here.”

  “But-“

  “At least for a while. Adra is starting to investigate, and I’ll do the same. We’ll find out what the danger is and avoid it. If we can’t I’ll run with enough time to spare.”

  Reluctantly, Hwosh agreed. His mind was plagued with dangers befalling his friend as he left the city for his next job, heading northwest. Despite what people thought or said, these past few months were some of the happiest he’d had. Without Percy and Adra in his life, the warrior didn’t know what he’d do.

  Contrary to what he’d expected, only the last Sceggle caused him any trouble at all. He’d tracked and fought the beasts before, so knew he could best one in open terrain. The problem was leaving the beaks intact in order to preserve the magic in their feathers. The human sized flightless birds employed their beaks as the primary method of attack, seconded only by talons iced over and foggy with cold. Moreover, the beaks were fragile, and so Hwosh blocked blows with a soft wooden shield he’d brought along for the job.

  The last and largest sceggle, identifiable as a sage sceggle by its golden plumage, broke that shield with an ill-timed blow as Hwosh tripped over a rock. After a few seconds of terror, the warrior was able to dodge left, right, then left again, avoiding striking the bird on its beak. After minutes of tiresome fights and bleeding the thing slowly to tire and enrage it, the Sceggle lifted one mighty leg and Hwosh twirled beneath it, getting scratched lightly on the left shoulder with a talon so cold it stole his breath away. Just as it tried to bring the appendage down on its would-be victim, the warrior stabbed upwards into the thing’
s body, severing its life in a heartbeat.

  Unlike with the worg, Hwosh was incapable of carrying four sceggles upon his back, and had arranged for a small wagon just for that. Thus he arrived at Lor only two days before the end of the seven day deadline Murata had given him. Luckily, the gate wasn’t as crowded as it was a few days earlier, and the man was able to get in without many delays. He found a warehouse to store the carcasses in, gave the lady in charge of it three coins for a day of storage, and went straight to Murata’s Tavern.

  When he went through the swinging door it was still high noon, and yet there were still a few patrons here and there. The music was calmer than it would be at night, Hwosh noticed, and realized that the effect must be deliberate. As open as Lor was to other cultures, it would be problematic to have people get too rowdy this early in the day. Interestingly, Murata himself looked tired, and shied away from direct sunlight with whenever a stray beam got too close to him. “Hello, sir,” Hwosh greeted him with a slight sense of wonder. It was often the opposite sort of interaction between the two.

  “Good day, Hwosh,” offered Murata with half of his good grace, which was about double the amount to be had from somebody else. “I see you’re looking slightly grimy. Good news, I hope? Ah, forget that,” he said suddenly, focusing on Hwosh’s shoulder, “You need to get that looked at.”

  The warrior’s well rounded shoulder was sliced on one side, and although he had tried his best to bandage it up properly and had taken a healing potion with him, it was going slow. “Ah, I will, sir. It’s just that one of the Sceggles was a sage.”

  Murata perked up at that. “A sage? Excellent news! I just got an order for some apteriffs, and the plumage would work wonderfully with what I have in mind. And you’re two days early, to boot. I’m sure me and you will speak in the future; I have uses for a man who can do this kind of fine work. The emissaries are going to be pleased.”

  “Emissaries, sir?”

  “Ah…” The bartender paused. “Well, I guess it’s fine to tell you.” The man leaned over, so as to discourage eavesdroppers. “The guests I’m to entertain are emissaries from Indellekt. With both our countries looking over their borders as they are, I hope my good service could remind them that Regalians are worth being friends with. But truly,” he announced, allowing his voice to carry loud once more, “great work, Hwosh!”

  A few of the patrons were looking at the man now, and he could see Xera coming his way. “uh, thank you, sir,” offered Hwosh, not knowing exactly how to react and wanting nothing more than to go home and avoid the attention. “How has everybody been?”

  “Ah, things have been well,” stated the bartender, “although your friend has been ill.”

  Hwosh’s smile stopped dead in his tracks. The first thought that went to his mind was that Percy must have been poisoned. It was the only thing that made sense. He had promised him that no harm would come to him. Why didn’t uncle Salim say anything? Why would Percy be poisoned? Without another word, Hwosh ran out into the street, ignoring the alarmed shout from an elderly lady he’d almost leapt over. The man turned immediately right and raced through the street, arriving at their apartment building a panting mess. Almost doubled over and with so many thoughts sprinting through his mind, Hwosh knocked on Percy’s door hard. An alarmed shout came from within, and a few seconds later the portal swung open, slowly. The warrior forced it the rest of the way through, eliciting a startled cry from Adra.

  “Where is he?” the man demanded of her, and she pointed at the bedroom.

  “But what happ-“ she started to ask, but Hwosh cut her off.

  “I don’t know why they’d do it,” he told her, “but I’m going to find out. It’s all my fault. I got that worg poison, and now they went ahead and did him in! Uncle Salim told me to get him out. They must have forced him to help.” He was pacing the living room, hardly daring to go and see Percy’s dying body just lying there in the bed. Adra was sitting on the sofa in front of him, her back to the door, looking a flustered mess and with one foot raised slightly up as if away from a rat.

  Suddenly, Adra said, “Oh,” and started to laugh, relaxing visibly. Before Hwosh could do anything, she exclaimed, “He wasn’t poisoned!”

  “What?”

  “Well, I mean, he was,” she added, confusing the man evermore, “But not in the real sense. He was the one who wanted to eat something I made. So I tried making bread, and he ate it, and apparently there’s a powder I thought was salt and turned out to be something else completely and it got him ill.” For a couple of seconds, nobody said anything, although Adra’s lips trembled.

  “Oh.” Hwosh looked over to where a pot of tea was brewing at the corner table, atop a heating stone Adra had purchased.

  “Yeah, oh,” mocked a voice from the room. Hwosh went over to check. Sure enough, Percy looked healthy enough, if still a bit green. “He hasn’t been drinking his medicine enough,” explained Adra, “Says it tastes like dog food. Don’t ask how he knows.”

  “Hey, you asked so I told you the story!” objected Percy in as much of his cheer as he could manage.

  “And that’s why I told Hwosh not to ask. Now you,” this next part was aimed at the warrior, “Go and get yourself cleaned up, we have to talk about what we found out while you were gone.”

  Hwosh was waved at with a hand as if he were fly, but still managed to say, “There’s an emissary from Indellekt coming here. That’s Murata’s client. Maybe he has something to do with the poison.”

  “We know, now go!” With that, the warrior was unceremoniously shooed out by both of his friends.

  The bath Hwosh took was before going back to Percy’s was, perhaps, the most embarrassing one since that time he was seventeen and sneezed into a girl’s face. Ugh, what kind of idiot goes off like that without checking? he thought to himself, sitting down curled up in about two and a half feet of hot water. Murata only said that Percy was ill, and yet you had to go and…. Stupid, stupid, stupid! If he didn’t watch it, he was going to become a sentimental fool out of sheer care for the two, he realized. Things were so much simpler when you were alone. And yet, Hwosh found himself convinced that he would not be able to live the same without Percy and Adra in his life. They were just important, plain and simple.

  About an hour later, Hwosh was able to face the prospect of going to Adra and Percy’s room. To her credit, the merchant kept her laughter to a minimum, yet it was still torture. When they had settled in on the sofa, Hwosh asked, “So, what did you guys find out?”

  “As far as we know, Mikhlab is going to try and poison an emissary from Indellekt by the name of Tamas Wedd,” said Adra. Hwosh looked at Percy, but the man shook his head.

  “I know the name,” he explained, “but all I heard about the man is he’s a psion and a nasty man.”

  “How did you find out?” asked Hwosh with slight uncertainty. Business was good for Mikhlab. Why go for an ambassador and risk war?

  “A mix of business contacts and mind reading,” answered Percy, “Although after she made me that meal, I wasn’t able to go out and help much at all. This was three days ago.” Adra grinned, perhaps stifling another “you asked for it”.

  “So, when does it happen? How do we find evidence? What do we do?” The last question, the last of a rapid fire of them, seemed to Hwosh like more of a general sweeping plea than anything else. This all was growing a little too big for him, and despite the rapid whirring in his head, nothing was making much sense at all.

  Adra said, “We tried notifying the authorities. At first they didn’t want to help, but Percy,” she pointed at her lover, who raised a lazy arm in acknowledgement, “Worked some of his magic.“

  “It’s not magic.”

  “He did it on one of the lower tier culprits. Walked right in and confessed everything he knew. It wasn’t enough for them to do anything, but we got their attention.”

  “That’s good,” offered Hwosh with hope. Instead of answering him, Adra went over to the pot, where a
crimson tea was bubbling slowly. She gave a cup to Hwosh and took another, but Percy received a murky green slimy looking liquid. He grumbled and she told him he needed to drink it to feel better. The back and forth ended with him drinking the foul stuff, murmuring about how all medicines taste bad. Ignoring him, the merchant elaborated, “Problem was, the next day he disappeared. So did the guards on his case.” Hwosh frowned, surprised at this sudden twist but remembering that if it were Saif’s men, they would be capable of doing such things with impunity. The underground king had a long reach indeed. “We think it was Mikhlab silencing them. Luckily, we kept our tips anonymous and so they can’t find us for nasty hurt times.” Disregarding the danger of what they were up against, she seemed more concerned with Percy trying to sneak away his brew into a plant pot. When he was properly chastised and she had once more apologized for poisoning the man, he told her that the food was delicious regardless and he was only so sick because he couldn’t stop eating the bread. Then, all three sipped quietly for a few moments.

  Something about discussing battle plans sitting next to each other on a sofa felt wrong to Hwosh, and so he stood up and turned to face his friends. Adra and Percy each stretched out a little in response, getting comfortable. “How about uncle Salim?” he suggested quietly, knowing that he didn’t want to explicitly connect the man who raised him with such a big matter. “If they’re trying to assassinate Indellekt’s ambassador this obviously, then it means Mikhlab has decided that there needs to be another war, and Lor needs to be on the side of Regalia. This is too big, we need to get some more help to deal with this organization.”