by Eric Ugland
"Is this the wrong time to ask about reincarnation?"
"Yes. If you are speaking about the manner in which you neglect to fully die, it does bother me to an extent. And it probably is one reason the god of death has never reached his hand out in patronage. But if you are asking if I allow those who live in my world to be reborn or recalled to living? No. But, then again, I am not the only power in this land, so there are those who find other ways around me."
Birds sang in the distance, and insects buzzed down in the grass below. It felt like the world was starting to come back to life after getting used to my presence.
"I will tell Leofing that he should join with your little group," she said, breaking my reverie. "But I fear you and I would make ill-suited allies. At least, we would at present. But I might mention to a few of my peers that there is a champion available. It just wouldn't suit me to divide my time between two champions, would it?"
"I guess not?"
She gave me a half-smile.
"It is not that I have found you wanting, Clyde,” Mokoš said. "I sense your goodness, and your desire to be good. But you hold on to tools that are evil, and I sense you are unwilling to set those aside. Even if someone were willing to provide you alternatives."
"You mean the necromancy?"
“And your drain spell."
"It's pretty bad, huh?"
She just raised an eyebrow at me.
"I give you this, Clyde Hatchett," she said. She reached out and grabbed my hand. There was a great warmth, and then --
Look at that, you’ve learned the spell: Turn Undead
Turn Undead allows you to force undead to move away from you or a target area. At higher spell levels, you will banish or destroy the undead.
"One should not leave meeting a god with nothing to show for it," Mokoš said.
And then, with another coy smile, I was thrown back into sleep.
Chapter Forty-One
It was still dark when I woke, and the room was full of snores. I counted three different ones, which meant that only one person wasn't snoring. I untangled from my little pile of blankets, tiptoed into the bathroom and did a little stretching there, trying to get my body to forgive me for the terrible night. Then I looked in the mirror and realized that I hadn't bothered to clean off when I'd gotten home. It suddenly made sense that Shae had been so worried about my new friends, because I looked horrible. I had layers of blood and mud all over me.
The shower made quick work of the mud and grime, but then I had to do what really irritated me: get out another set of basic clothes, because my new clothes were gnarsty with mud and grime. I needed a wardrobe refresh. I left my muddy gear in a pile, and grabbed a couple of daggers. No need for a full compliment of gear for what I had planned. All set for the day, I snuck out and down the stairs.
As soon as I walked out of the apartment, though, I ran into Mornax. He was sitting on a chair, reading a book, watching the stairs.
He scrambled to his feet.
"Good morning," I said.
"It is," he replied.
"I'm going to get breakfast," I aid.
"I will come with you," he replied.
I just nodded, because I had the feeling that a minotaur usually got to do what a minotaur wanted to do. You know, given that he was probably tipping the scales north of five hundred pounds and had about as much fat as skim milk.
I noticed that Mornax had hooves. But he must have had something strapped to the bottom that muffled his footsteps. Or hoofsteps. I suppose they were still feet. It was certainly a bit of a challenge to understand his anatomy. I had so many questions, but they were questions I was likely never going to ask.
The Heavy Purse wasn’t technically open, but Titus and his family were inside prepping for the day. A little knocking on the window, and I got us in.
Once again, everything stopped when Mornax walked into the room. He had to duck under the doorway, and even then, the back of his impossibly thick neck scraped against the jam. Then he stood in the entryway, assessing the threat of the room. Which, you know, was zero.
“Everything, uh, normal here?” Titus asked.
“New roommate,” I said. “Mornax, Titus. Titus, Mornax.”
Mornax nodded at Titus. Titus just looked over at me with wide eyes.
“Do I want to know?” Titus asked.
“Breakfast first,” I said. “Then questions.”
We sat down at the bar, Mornax barely fitting on the stool.
"Is he," Titus started, "you know, part of the feeding crew?"
“Him and two others," I said.
“That’s becoming quite the crew."
"Tell me about it."
"Is he—“
"He's part of my, uh, tejano?"
"Tjene," Mornax corrected. “Like the Glaton hirð. But different."
"So where are you from?" Titus asked, leaning on the bar.
"Am I allowed to tell him?" Mornax asked me.
"Yes," I said. "Sure. He's from Carchedon. It's a thing that I'll have to tell you all about at some point. For now, though, just I saved a guy’s life, and he was big in Carchedon, and apparently I had to have a blood debt repaid. So now we have him. And two more."
"Three people to repay a blood debt?" Titus asked. "Who was this guy? A prince?"
"Yes," Mornax said.
I just shrugged.
"Two breakfasts coming up," Titus replied, and disappeared into the kitchen.
After a few minutes, the plates appeared in front of us. Titus went back into the kitchen to continue with prep. Looking around, Mornax and I were alone.
I watched him sniff at the food. Then he grabbed his fork, which looked minuscule in his giant hand, and started shoveling the eggs and meat and potatoes into his mouth, nearly indiscriminately. He was done with all the food on his plate before I'd even gotten two bites in. Then he pushed his plate away, and turned around on his stool so he was facing the rest of the bar.
"Are you," I started, trying to think of a way to talk to him, "I mean, have you been here before?"
"Glaton?" he asked. "No."
“So you spent your life in Carchedon?"
"No. My home laid outside Carchedon. To the south. But we lost a war, so shortly after I was born, our lands became Carchedon."
"Do you consider yourself, uh—“
"My nationality is unimportant. I am now of you. If you are Glatonese, I am Glatonese."
"Okay. I mean, I guess that makes things simpler.”
He gave a slight smile, though he didn't take his attention from the bar. I noticed that he was looking out the window at the few pedestrians passing by.
"There is a simplicity to this, yes," he said. "I have but one job to do now. What you tell me."
"Seems limiting."
"Perhaps. I see it as freeing."
"And you're a fighter of some kind?"
"I am. I have trained with many different weapons. Mostly I have trained in close combat versus multiple opponents."
"Why the name?"
"Mornax was my father's father."
"I meant the destroyer part."
"I fought in the arenas of Carchedon. I attempted to fight with the military of Carchedon, but they did not like my birthplace. They worried it would influence me negatively."
"Would it have?"
"I will never know."
"Do you hate them?"
"Carchedonian?”
"Yes."
"I do not hate them," he said slowly, "but I am glad to be away from them. I do not feel Carchedon is a good place."
"You're the first Minotaur I've met," I said, "so, uh, if I do something to offend you, I want you to let me know."
"You will know should I feel rage," he said. "Though now I have the Ring, my chances of turning to the Beast are dramatically lower."
"Turning to the beast? That sounds ominous and like something I should be aware of."
He took a breath, then let it out slowly, like he was trying t
o decide if this was the right time to have this particular conversation. And the right way to approach it. "Elves have been a people for as long as there has been land to live upon, yes?"
This seemed like a question a normal elf would be able to answer. Hell, it seemed like a question anyone born in Vuldranni could answer. And then there was me.
"Yes?"
"Minotaurs are not this way. Our legends tell us that we are new to this world. That we were not always capable of thought or speech. Of building or loving or being a member of a city. Or anything. According to our lore, there are still those living who knew us only as monsters. Creatures of hate and violence. But something happened — a kindness reached to one of us. Then another. And we were drawn out of living in the bestial rage we had existed under. We were brought into the sunlight of others. But underneath beats the heart of a monster. The Ring is given to those of us who have found purpose, or honor, or a master, and it gives us a greater chance of avoiding the Call of the Beast. Of becoming the monster once again."
"What makes you become a monster?"
He shrugged his massive shoulders. "If it were known, there would be an easy remedy, yes?"
"I guess that's true."
"It is also why so many of us strive for a service of some kind, that we may be useful to someone in order to earn our Ring."
"Did anyone think of just giving the rings out?"
"It did not work."
“Huh.”
He nodded once, and then returned to staring out the window.
I took another bite of food, chewing it and thinking.
“Do you want to join a guild?" I asked the big man. Um, minotaur.
"If you wish, I will join," he replied.
"Perfect," I said.
I waited for the quest notification.
Nothing.
"Do you need something to join?" I asked. "Like, I mean, is there some, uh, quest I can do for you?"
"No. I will join."
"Hrm."
"Is there a problem?"
"I don't know."
I went into my guild sheet, and I looked at the members. Mornax was there, listed next to Shae, Titus, and his wife. And yet ,when I looked down below at the 'members in good standing' it was only 3.
"Well that sucks,” I said.
“Is there a problem?" Mornax asked.
“It seems like you don't count as a member in good standing."
"Likely because of our unique connection. I won't count against party limits either."
"Ah, so some good and some bad, I suppose."
"It would seem so, yes."
The door to the Heavy Purse slammed inward, and Matthew strode in.
Mornax was up in a flash, and he put himself between me and Matthew.
"What in the hells is this?" Matthew asked, staring at Mornax, then glaring at me.
"New friend," I replied, trying my best to sound bored sitting at the bar.
"Is he a friend?" Mornax asked.
"Pretty much anyone you see coming in here right now is a friend," I replied. "Unless Titus starts screaming at someone, assume friendly."
Mornax nodded, then sat back down on his stool.
"You and I need to have a little chat," Matthew said.
"Damn straight we do," I said, shoveling the last of the food into my mouth. "Basement?"
"Basement."
I walked into the backroom, and Mornax followed right on my heels.
Matthew was following as well, just not quite as closely. It wasn't until we were down in the basement that he cleared his throat.
"What's the deal with the minotaur?" Matthew asked.
"He's part of my Tjene."
"How the hell'd you get one of those?"
“I saved the life of a prince."
“Right,” Matthew said.
"You don't need to stay down here, though, Mornax,” I said. “We’re just going to have a chat."
"You would prefer I post upstairs?"
"In the tavern, sure."
He nodded, and stomped back up the stairs.
"Things are getting interesting with you," Matthew said.
"You're saying that just now?"
"How would you prefer I respond to a giant minotaur warrior guarding you now?"
"How about a congratulations?"
"Sure. Congratulations on having a minotaur with you. It's certainly an accomplishment of a sort."
"Have you worked with them before?"
"I've had interactions. Interesting creatures."
"He’s— “
"I'm happy to talk minotaurs with you in the future, when we're not under the time crunch you seem to have forgotten."
"The guild."
"Aye, that's the one. You remember how much time you've got?"
I checked the quest log quickly.
"Five days left," I said.
"And how's the guild coming?"
“Did you know that my Tjene doesn't count?"
“Makes sense - your hirð wouldn't either. They don't count for anything like that. For good and bad. So who's in so far? And how did it go at Valamir's place? Did you get—“
"First question first," I said. "I've got Shae, I've got Titus and Penelope."
"Three of eight?"
"I've also completed Leofing's quest, so that's four as soon as I talk to him. And Nadya is simple. Six."
"Five."
"Five. Right. I was already counting you."
"Bit early for that. So tell me about Valamir. You found something."
“I did,“ I said. “But I don't think you're going to like it."
"Out with it."
“He’s not the guy who did it.”
Matthew sat down on one of the barrels and tilted his head to the side. Beneath us, the mystery monster moved around and did whatever it did to make noise.
"He didn't do it, eh?” Matthew said. "Can you break it down for me? Perhaps make it clear to me as if I was a child? Present some evidence that would refute everything I know about the man and his relationship to the former Emperor?"
"Primarily it was talking with him."
"You spoke with Valamir."
"I did."
"The former Emperor’s—“
"I know who Valamir is. And yes, I spoke to him. He came into his office while I was going through his things, and we spoke. And everything I found before he came in also made me think he didn’t do it. Sure, the two of them had a tumultuous relationship, but Valamir still loved his brother, and I think he wanted to protect the crown.”
"That sounds well and good. I guess we should just pack up and name him Emperor, right?'
"That's not what I said, is it? Why are you jumping to conclusions that way?"
"Because you sound like a fool."
"I do? Have you met Valamir? Do you know him or what he's been through?'
"No and no, but I know what I've read. I know the information I've sold in the past, and I know what it said about Valamir then."
"Let me guess: did it say something along the lines of Valamir hates his brother so if you want to commit treason and get the Emperor off the throne, go to Valamir first?'
A slight pause as he looked at me and seemed to think for a minute.
"It's possible that was the rumor around things," Matthew said.
"All of this stems from the Emperor's wife, right? That she chose the Emperor and not Valamir. That was their big break."
"Correct."
"When I spoke to Valamir, he confirmed that. But he also said that the first time someone came to him, Valamir went to his brother and told him about the threat. And then the Emperor ordered Valamir to appear like he was trying to murder his brother, so anyone willing to go through the plan would continue to go to Valamir first. Then Valamir would send a secret message to the Emperor, and then, plan foiled."
Matthew scrunched his face up into the look he got when he was trying to figure something out. He was trying to decide if he wanted to believe me. And
I think he did. And yet, I understood, there was a reluctance to let go of a belief that had been incubating so long.
"Do you have any proof of this? Beyond your little conversation?”
"There’s research he's doing — all the information I got from the documents on his desk, it's not about who's going to vote which way or anything like that. Nothing about who might become the next Emperor. It was all about armies. Who has the biggest army, who can afford to pay their army the longest."
"Not exactly evidence either way, there."
"Okay, but if he wanted the throne, now would be the time to work every angle he had to get it. Not this, not trying to weigh what kind of war is going to come to the Empire as it rips itself to pieces."
"You're reading an awful lot into this."
"I just don't think the man is who you think he is, Matthew. I think he's a misunderstood dude who got railroaded into being the bad guy to help his family out. And I've met both men. Sure, not for any real length of time, but they both seemed like they were trapped by their birthplace. Neither one seemed evil — they both seemed trustworthy. And, for what it's worth, Valamir said he doesn't want the throne."
"Of course he'd say that to you—“
"Why? Why would he say anything to an anonymous thief breaking into his home? It's absurd."
“Because he knew you were there to find out what he knew."
"That's ridiculous."
"You have been pulled in by the man. You like him, so you don't want him to be what he really is. And now—“
"I'm not under his sway. I don't like him any more than I like any random dude. I spoke to him twice—“
"Twice?"
"I went back to give him a heads up about Carchedon invading.”
“Well that’s certainly a minor thing. You just figured you'd tell me about that later?"
"Buddy, you've been driving this conversation, not me. I'm still trying to catch up on the first question you asked me, dammit. But yeah, back a while ago, I saved the life of the Carchedonian prince who's the ambassador here—“
"Troels Westergaard?"
"That's the guy. He said he owed me a blood debt—“
"The tjene."
"Yeah. Three people to make up for him not being allowed to become my tjener or whatever because he's royalty. But it had to get done last night, because he's pulling up stakes, because Carchedon is about to attack.”
