Seer of Shadows

by Cleave Bourbon

  “You can see them as I can now.”

  “That’s useful. Wild magic?”

  The girl nodded.

  “Stay behind me,” Gondrial commanded as the smaller Dramyds attacked.

  Bolts of lightning streaked across the sky as Gondrial let loose his magic. Several more of the creatures fell, and then they began to fly erratically before leisurely flying off toward the northeast. “I think they lost their commander when I killed the Drasmyd Duil imitating you.” He let the sword fall limply. The rain began to subside a little, and he saw for the first time that the girl had been injured at some point during the fight. He leaned down to her examining the wounds on her arm and cut into her side. “You’re hurt.”

  “Aye,” she said. “I think it was when we fell from the horse.”

  “What’s your name?” Gondrial asked so he could distract her from what he was doing.

  “Deylia.” She said.

  “Where are you from, Deylia?” He asked as he tightened a makeshift cloth bandage on her arm.

  She winced, “I am from Trigothia. I came here on a merchant trip with my father, but I couldn’t control my wild magic anymore once we were in Symboria and he was killed trying to protect me in Symbor from Enforcers.”

  “Aye, there is something about the Blight in Symboria that brings out the wild magic. I have seen it happen before.”

  “The Enforcers in Trigothia can be bribed, and my father made the mistake of trying to bribe a couple here. They didn’t like it.”

  “You are much closer to their main headquarters over here. The Enforcers aren’t as corruptible. There, I should be able to transport you now.”

  “What about the others?”

  Gondrial looked around at the carnage, “I am afraid we will have to leave them as they are.”

  “That’s barbaric. You can’t bury them?”

  “Not if you want to live. You have been bitten by a Dramyd. I must get you to a cleric. There are a few in Brookhaven, or we can go to the Vale of Morgoran, but I have business to the east, toward Brookhaven so, that’s the way we’re going.”

  Deylia reluctantly agreed.

  Gondrial stood up and whistled loudly. A few moments later his horse, named Horse, came galloping up. Gondrial helped Deylia mount up, and then he slipped on behind her. “Hold on, and I will get you some help.”

  Deylia nodded.

  The rain began to fall again as they rode northeast on the Southern Road.

  Chapter 14: The Sword

  The winds had begun to blow out of the North when Shey’s coach reached the Sea and Ale Inn, a funny name considering the nearest large body of water was a several day’s ride to the south. It was close enough; however, to offer fresh fish and other seafood. Shey was looking forward to dining on something besides road rations for a change. She was even more excited to have fish instead of beef stock and stew.

  Rodraq lowered the steps and opened the coach door. “We’ve arrived.” He announced.

  “Rodraq,” Shey began as she stepped onto the first step. “Do you still believe you can switch the coach for a common wagon?”

  Rodraq chuckled, “Aye, my lady.”

  “Rodraq?”

  “Sorry, my lady, it’s just that you sound like a proper royal.”

  “Yes, well, I had better work on that while we are here and before we travel on to Brookhaven under disguise.”

  “Aye, my lady.”

  Sylvalora and Geron followed with Geron rushing past Shey to get inside the inn. Shey turned to Sylvalora. “The boy says he’s hungry.”

  “I should say so,” Shey said.

  “Go on, my lady. I will take care of the coach.” Rodraq said.

  Shey followed Geron into the inn and procured a couple of rooms for the night. Once the room business was concluded she sat with Geron and Sylvalora in the common room to order a bite to eat. A portly yet friendly young man made his way to the table. He was obviously very nervous, and Shey realized it was probably due to her manner of dress and her reputation. Everyone knew about the coach. It would be much better after Rodraq replaced it with another carriage.

  “What may I bring you?” The young man asked.

  “What do you have that’s good?” she raised her finger before he could answer, “and I should mention I prefer fresh food.”

  “We have a wonderful fish stew. It was prepared fresh a few hours ago.” He said before his friendly expression contorted into one of terror.

  “You are wrinkling your nose, dear,” Sylvalora said to her.

  “Oh, am I. I am so sorry. It’s just; I was thinking earlier that every inn I have visited lately seems only to serve stew.”

  “Oh,” the man’s expression returned to its friendly humor, “We do have the catch of the day. The cooks can have a filet prepared for you in no time.”

  “Aye, I will have the filet.” She looked at Geron. “What do you want to eat?”

  “Fish stew is fine for me.”

  “I’ll have the same,” Sylvalora said. “No need to go to any special trouble for us.”

  “I’ll return shortly.” The young man said before heading off for the kitchens.

  “When did you become so spoiled, Shey?” Sylvalora asked as she unrolled a cloth napkin. “That court position you held has made you a snob.”

  “So you and Gondrial say, I just noticed the young man was already nervous and obviously already knew who I was, so I thought why pretend and choke down yet another bowl of stew.”

  “I don’t believe it!” Sylvalora said.

  “Well, I don’t know why not. He was falling all over himself to get here.”

  “No, not that, look at what’s above the fireplace affixed high on the mantel.”

  Shey turned in her chair to get a better look. The inn-sized fireplace had a wide stone façade, which was adorned with a net draped over a stuffed fish of some kind with a rusty harpoon sticking out of it. There were various seashells and starfish decorating the net. Just above the net, and somewhat out of place, was a soldier’s helm with a rather plain looking, rusty sword hilt just visible above it. If the hilt had a blade to it, the thing was not visible due to it being buried under all the other adornments. “What? the fishnet and the harpoon or the helm and sword?”

  “The sword. If my memory serves that hilt is the hilt of Malinfel.”

  “No,” Shey squinted to get a better look, “That can’t be the sword. What would it be doing here as a decoration? Look at it; it’s rusty and cheap. It must be a copy, a bad copy.”

  A moment later the plump young man returned with a tray food. He plopped the food almost recklessly in front of them. Shey caulked his manner up to nerves.

  “Say, I noticed there is a sword behind the fishnet on the mantel,” Shey said.

  The plump man squinted, “So there is. I never noticed it before.”

  “Never?”

  “The net and harpoon have been there as long as I have worked here. I remember it here even when I used to come here with my mum when I was a lad.”

  “Where is the owner of the inn? Might they know?”

  “I doubt it, but you might ask old Dane at the bar. He was also here when I was a boy. I think he has been here as long as the building has been standing. I bet he could tell you about the sword and what not.”

  “Thank you. I will have a word with him once I am done eating.”

  Sylvalora took a bite of her fish stew, “So, you do believe it might be the sword.”

  Shey was irritated, but she didn’t want Sylvalora to see, “Well, it doesn’t hurt to inquire does it. I still doubt the sword has been attached to a mantle at an inn for years. How did it get here and why would it be used as decoration?”

  “Malinfel is forgotten magic. Maybe they didn’t know what they had.”

  “It’s not very forgotten if Morgoran thinks it might help us. He also told me about it in front of Drakkius.”

  “I meant in construction.”

  Shey set down her na
pkin, “Wait here and eat your stew. I will talk to the barman and see if I can get an answer to this quickly so I can have some peace.”

  “You’re the one getting all riled up about it, dear,” Sylvalora said.

  Shey sighed, got up and weaved between the plain wooden tables to the bar at the west end of the common room. The mantle was located directly opposite on the east wall.

  “Hello, my lady.” The barman said when Shey approached. “What can I do for you?”

  “I was told you have been employed here for quite some time. Is that true?”

  “Near thirty years now, aye, my lady.”

  “Good, I wondered if you might tell me about the sword located under the net and harpoon on the mantle?”

  “Certainly, what did you wish to know?”

  “Where did it come from and why is it up there in the mantle? Is it just a decorative sword?”

  “That sword came from a cave not far from here. When the owner of this place was a boy, his Pa built the place. I know because I was his best friend. We used to go explore the old caves and get into all sorts of mischief.” His gaze drifted off.

  “Uh hum, you were saying?”

  “Oh yes, sorry. Say, has anyone ever told you, you have the most striking blue eyes?”

  “Many, many times, now, you were saying?”

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to offend?”

  “None taken. I am just very interested in the sword.”

  “Well, interested or not, you would have a better chance if you were to go to the smithy and have one made for you.”

  “Ah, so the smithy has reproduced the sword?”

  “Oh sure, that is a most common arming sword design around here. It’s nothing special.”

  “That’s what I thought. Thank you, kind sir.” Shey turned to go back to her table.

  “Except for that one. It is a magical sword.”

  Shey stopped in mid-stride. She stepped back to the bar, “Why do you say that?”

  “When we found the sword, Jeroh, that’s the current owner, used to use it to cut wood and use it for other such general abuse until the blade was dulled. It sat around collecting dust until the original inn was renamed the Soldier and the Sword. After that, the sword was placed upon the mantle with the helm.”

  “Okay, and you think it’s magic because...?”

  “The Inn burned down. Everything but the mantle was lost. When the inn was rebuilt, it was named the Sea and Ale, and they tried to take down the sword and helm to put up the net and harpoon, only the sword and helm would not budge. Presumably, the helm had been fused by the fire to the mantle. They tried everything, but short of destroying the mantle, they couldn’t remove it.”

  “The sword was fused too?”

  “No, that’s the magic part. The heat didn’t do anything to it visibly like it did the helm. But they still could not remove it. There was no reason for it to cling to that wall, but it would not budge. Eventually, they just put up the Sea and Ale decorations over it.”

  “Thank you for the story,” Shey said.

  “You don’t believe me, do you.”

  “Of course, I do. It’s just not the sword I’m looking for.”

  “It talks to people.” He said.

  “It what?”

  “The sword talks to people. It dares them to try and remove it, but the owner won’t let anyone try. A couple have even tried without permission and got thrown out of here for their trouble.”

  “Is that why you believe it to be magic?”

  The old barman nodded.

  Shey did her best to give the old-timer a genuine smile, “Thank you so much for your story. I enjoyed talking with you.”

  “Any time. I always have time to talk with a pretty woman.”

  “Aw, you’re so sweet.” She said waving her hand at him dismissively.

  He beamed back at her and then began to absently run a semi-white rag across the bar as he had undoubtedly done thousands of times.

  Shey weaved back through the tables to Sylvalora and Geron.

  “Well?” Sylvalora asked.

  “It’s just a normal arming sword, reproduced many times over by the local smithy.”

  “Disappointing.”

  “Surely, you didn’t think Malinfel would be that easy to find?”

  Sylvalora laughed and then looked at the sword hilt sticking out from under the fishing net, “Finding a magical sword hanging haphazardly on the mantle of an inn. In the common room no less.”

  “Ridiculous!” Shey agreed.

  “Apparently, some boys twenty some odd years ago stumbled across that sword in a cave nearby.”

  “I wonder who would leave their arming sword in a cave?” Sylvalora asked.

  “Someone probably hid it there expecting to return to retrieve it when they needed it.”

  “That seems a bit odd.”

  “Of course, maybe since the sword pattern is so common, it was just left there and forgotten. I mean, why does there have to have a reason? I’m sure it isn’t all that strange for a couple of young explorers to find odds and ends lying about. People find things in strange places all the time.”

  “That’s true. I once found some old scrolls in a cave; they were sealed in clay jars. No one knows who left them there.”

  “Oh, were they important?”

  “Ianthill took them to study, and he never got back to me, so I think not.”

  “A pity.”

  Shey gazed up at the rusty sword hilt again. “Did you know the barman told me they used to chop at wood with that sword? They dulled the blade playing with it.”

  Sylvalora chuckled, “You’re kidding?”

  “No, they did.”

  “It’s a good thing; it’s just a common everyday arming sword with no significance.”

  “Aye, a proper sword should be treated with respect.”

  Sylvalora let her coy laughter trail off, “So, how are we going to get it down?”

  Shey took a bite of her now room temperature fish, “In the middle of the night when no one is watching, of course.”

  “Then we will rush off to Brookhaven?”

  “Precisely, disguised, just as we have discussed,” Shey said.

  Chapter 15: The Inn at the Edge

  Gondrial and Deylia reached the mountain village of Brookhaven just before dark on the second day from Cedar Falls. Deylia, injured by the poisonous saliva of a Dramyd, was in good spirits but the poison was beginning to take its toll on her. Gondrial slowed the damage with an herbal remedy he learned along with a small, undetectable amount of magic. It was enough to keep her alive until they reached the Temple of Loracia in Brookhaven. He galloped through the streets past the Tiger’s Head Inn and its wonderful smells of roasting meat and soothing pinewood fires. He came to a stop in front of the Temple.

  “Aid, Aid here!” He shouted as he dismounted and began to help Deylia down from his horse. A teenager with blond hair and a pleasant face, wearing the white robes of a priest of Loracia exited the temple to help Gondrial get the girl inside.

  “What happened?” The blond young man asked.

  “Dramyd attack,” Gondrial said.

  The boy was confused, “What’s a Dramyd?”

  “Never mind. Where is Father Tarle?”

  “I’m here.” A man with an even more elaborate white and gold robe came in from a room behind the altar. He was older with white hair and a short white beard. He appeared exceptionally clean as if he had never had a spec of dirt touch him in his entire life. “What happened?”

  “Dramyd bite,” Gondrial explained.

  “Ah,” He turned to the young man, “Vesperin, get some clean linen and some drinking water. Bring them to the healing room and then go to Sanmir and ask him for some of his yellow salve; he will know what I am talking about.”

  “Yes, Father,” Vesperin said and hurried off.

  “Where in Loracia’s name did you come across a Dramyd?” Father Tarle asked.

  “Dr
amyds, there were a lot of them.”

  The priest pursed his lips as if he didn’t believe Gondrial, “Help me get her to the healing room.”

  “Aye, and I can see you don’t believe me, but the girl can attest I am telling you the truth.”

  The priest shook his head, “It isn’t my place to question. I am merely here to heal. I will take care of her. Once we get her to the healing room, you can go. Return in a couple of hours, and I will give you her condition.”

  “I promised her I would stay with her.”

  “Nonsense, go and get out of my way, now. I don’t need you underfoot. I am sure the girl would understand.” He said caustically.

  “I thought priests of Loracia were supposed to be nice old men and women,” Gondrial said.

  “That was me being nice!” Tarle said.

  “Oh.”

  Gondrial helped get Deylia to the healing room. She was unconscious now, and Tarle shooed him out of the room as soon as he could. The priest was joined by two more women and the boy Vesperin as Gondrial was almost pushed physically out of the healing room.

  Gondrial left the temple and headed directly for the tavern in the common room of the Tiger’s Head Inn. He was also famished. He wondered if he needed to bring food for Deylia since neither of them had eaten all day but decided the priests would probably take care of all that.

  Gondrial entered the inn’s common room, and immediately his eyes rested on the massive mural above the bar of a giant tiger head. He glanced around the room and found a cozy little table off to one side. He went to the table and plopped down. A pretty girl with thick curly reddish-blonde hair met him at the table.

  “What can I get you?” She said.

  “An ale and whatever food is freshest,” Gondrial replied. He leaned forward, “And the time you get done here.” He winked.

  “One ale, one stew and I will be spending time with my betrothed, Devyn when I am done here.”

  “Shame, a pretty young girl like you attached already.”

  “I can see by the points on your ears that you are probably much older than you appear, and you appear to be pretty old.”