by Justin Wayne
Chapter Twenty: “The littlest city of big knowledge”
“Oh not again!” he cried as his spell malfunctioned and sent shadow exploding into the room. He muttered under his breath and illuminated the room with a ball of light in his palm that he cast to the ceiling where it remained and deteriorated the enchanted darkness. He scratched his balding head with a fat finger. “Hmm, really thought I had it that time.”
He turned back to his desk and the pile of books, scrolls, bits and pieces of numerous ingredients he had used over the years, for it had been the same number of years since he last cleaned his room, and artifacts of great power. At least, he thought they had great power.
They probably have great power. He had yet to find out.
The light and shadow contrast about his room hid most of it in a strange tone of gray and made it seem old, rustic. He liked the look and using a ladder, engraved a glyph on the ceiling to make the spells permanent. With a satisfied nod, he climbed down and looked about his little room; literally in a new light.
It was circular in shape and not by accident. Set into the floor were runes, glyphs, and spells to ensure his protection in summoning; the utmost security one would need when dealing with creatures of the Pit. Surrounding that was his bed, a wooden frame and short mattress laden with thick, cushy blankets. And how he loved that bed! Across from his beloved was a tall shelf packed to the brim with books and tomes in several languages he couldn’t read and several he could, on topics ranging from the local flora and fauna to the many ways one could cook a meal so wonderful it could vanquish evil beings.
Amid this was his desk, buried beneath his numerous belongings, a large rectangular structure with a single large drawer on each side; enchanted to hold impossible volumes. This was his prized possession and his daily friend, positioned along the back wall so he could see the entirety of the room when sitting.
He skimmed over the tome one more time and laughed as he noticed his mistake.
“Ah! I added six times the amount of shadow I was supposed to and not nearly enough fire!” He guffawed loudly and laid out another blank scroll. “Silly me.” Then he pulled back the sleeves of his robes and clapped his clammy hands together.
Just as he raised his hands to cast a spell there was a knock at his door. It was enchanted heavily to deny entry to any without permission, impenetrable to all but the most powerful of magics, and blocked all sound from his room to the outside unless he wanted to be heard.
“Yes?” he called. As soon as he did, his intent apparent, the door became transparent on his side only and allowed to him see his visitor without their knowing.
A tall, gangly boy he had seen numerous times the last two years and still didn’t recognize was there, clothing showing his entry position in the chapel. His reedy voice was high and made everything sound like a question, quickly irritating the cleric.
Perhaps he would allow me to change his voice, he mused hopefully and slipped off into his thoughts as the boy spoke. Fully a minute later he realized the boy was still there and awaiting a response. Quick to be embarrassed, he hurriedly shouted yes and prayed it would suffice to the question.
Luck was on his side that day as the boy nodded and went off at once. The cleric nodded and turned away from the door, which had turned opaque once more, and smoothed out his blank parchment with the flat of his hands. He cleared his throat, froze, and then realized he had forgotten what he was attempting. A quick skim of the tome reminded him.
“Oh yes! That’s right.” Attention captured, he pulled back his sleeves and clapped his hands together in preparation. Focused solely on the experiment and caught up in the enticement it offered, he called for the power of his god, Reiin, the god of knowledge. With a powerful pulse of energy from his deity, he unleashed his spells onto the blank scroll.
If not for his door’s enchantment all outside would have heard the ensuing explosion and his exasperated shouting.
Not a second later a knock came to his door. Unable to see through the second bout of shadow he had inadvertently unleashed, he couldn’t see through the clear door, merely throwing it open with a gasp to clear the air in his room of the smoke and darkness.
His visitor groaned loudly at the sight and the cleric turned on him angrily.
“And who are you to complain, boy?” He grit his teeth and tried to wipe the soot from his face with even dirtier hands which only accomplished darkening his complexion further. “Like to see you attempt to perform such a complicated spell!”
“If I were to, I can verily promise you it would not backfire such as yours.” the visitor responded immediately. “’Course magic was never really my forte so it probably wouldn’t go off in the first place.”
The strong voice of his visitor struck a note in his mind. A voice he had heard before. He scratched his head again and used his sleeve to wipe the grimy ash from his eyes and glasses. Blinking several times then squinting, he looked up at the tall form before him.
“Outsider!” he shouted and smiled a toothy grin that showed his pink gums even beneath his bushy brown beard. “How long’s it been? About six months?”
Outsider shook his hand then wiped the soot on his cloak. “Try two years.”
The cleric shrugged. “Ah well, age is just a number am I right? What’ve you been up to?”
“Perhaps for those like us with extended lifespans, good dwarf.” Outsider replied. “I’ve been out and about to find my fortune in bounties. But I’ve come for your assistance.”
The cleric eyed him through his filthy glasses and his thick eyebrows rose in an expression that sorely reminded him of Merlon. “What kind of assistance, elf? ‘Cause I aint fightin’ no more vampires and demented knights!” He bristled at the thought. “I still can’t get the smell of burnt hair out of me nostrils.”
Outsider assured him it was nothing of the sort. “Not at all, it’s my friend, a dwarf like yourself. He’s near death and needs immediate medical attention. I thought if anyone could heal him it would be you.”
The cleric puffed out his chest slightly and smiled a cocky grin. Outsider knew a stroke of the ego would do the trick. “Well, my healing is renowned ‘round these parts, if I do say so myself.” the dwarf boasted. “Just gimme’ a day or two to pack up my stuff and we’ll head out, I’ve nearly finished my spell.”
Outsider’s incredulous glare was not lost on him. “Oh, I can tell.” he stated with dripping sarcasm. “But we don’t have a day or two. He took a spear through the liver and it’s already been four days.” He saw the reluctance in the dwarf’s eyes. “I’ve rode day and night to get here so quickly; to save him.
“So you can save him.”
Defeated, the dwarf cleric sighed and nodded his bearded head, bald spot glinting in the light of the floating chandeliers. “Alright, elf. We’ll head out at once, just gimme’ an hour to pack.”
Outsider agreed and left his old friend to gather his various ingredients and items. He knew how many things spellcasters required and made his way outside from the chapel, pacing back and forth outside within the tall building’s shade. The architecture was like that of the ancient dwarves with pillars and great doors as tall as a giant made out of bronze. Gargoyles and other statues were crafted out of the very stone of the roof and gave the chapel an ominous, gothic look.
In a way it reminded him of the dark elven houses below and he shuddered, thankful he was in the open. An impatient hour that seemed to crawl by on hands and knees passed and a moment later the cleric emerged through the heavy doors, an enormous pack as big as he was on his back with smaller packs dangling off of it. He strode forward with a wide smile and a terrible racket.
“’Bout time I got outside I suppose; been gettin’ a little soft ‘round the edges if you catch my meaning.” He laughed and shifted his eyes. Outsider stared at him unblinkingly and gradually he gave in. “Alright, fine! The elders...heavily suggested I leave and not come back until my spell is finished! Satisfied?”
&n
bsp; The elf ignored the remark and changed the subject. “But why do you have such a large pack? Don’t you clerics have those enchanted capacity bags or whatever they're called?”
He shook his head and shrugged then nodded. “Well, we do. But. Last time I tried the spell it didn’t..” He scratched his head and shuffled his feet. “I don’t do it anymore.”
Outsider wisely contained a laugh and stroked his chin. “Fair enough, but do you really need so much stuff?”
The dwarf looked offended as if he had just been slapped and spat on. “Of course I do! This is the littlest city of big knowledge my friend. I have learned much since last we met and this,” he motioned to the heavy pack on his back. “Is only some of the requirements for such. Just wait, Outsider, once you see it you’ll realize it’s a small price to pay.”
“Sure.” Outsider looked about as he called Jiff with a shrill whistle. Briggand Sails looked much the same as before, with all the shops and houses built into a single, long line that paralleled the dirt path before it. The only discernible difference was the lack of black paint that reflected no light upon all the buildings. Now they came in a rainbow of blues, greens, and yellows, with some of the houses their natural wood tone.
Still celebrating the fact the vampires are long gone I suppose.
As the gelding approached, Outsider looked to his friend who still stood passively. “Where’s your horse? You don’t plan to walk all the way there do you?”
The cleric smiled smugly and shook his head. “You don’t plan to ride all the way there do you?” The blank expression on the elf’s face was all the answer he needed. “You said this was an urgent matter with no time to spare. So, I took the liberty of making this.”
He rummaged around in his deep pocket and removed a small, unremarkable stone. Its surface was rough and porous with a faint green color. Outsider looked at it with a hint of worry.
“And that is?”
The cleric laughed and tossed the stone in the air before catching it. “This, my friend, is a dweomer stone. It allows me to boost the range of my tree transfer.”
Outsider faintly remembered something by that name. He looked back to their past career together when it struck him. “You mean that thing where you walk into—“
“The very same! Now, follow me.” he instructed and set off immediately past the chapel. Outsider pulled Jiff along behind and followed the dwarf to a large tree placed to the side of a small hillock. “Take my hand and don’t let go of your horse whatever you do.” He closed his eyes in concentration.
“What happens if I do?”
The cleric shrugged with his eyes still shut as he prepared for the spell. “Just messy.” And with that, he tugged them along as he stepped under the tree, into its shadow. There was a sudden lurch, then they stepped out from a different tree.
The one hiding the clearing where Thom and Merlon were camped.
“Still regret letting me into your little hidey hole those years back?” the cleric jested and led the way into the dale. Outsider came in right behind him after checking Jiff was unharmed and looked to Thom who was sitting near the unconscious form of Merlon. The hobbit looked up suddenly at the sound of their approach, or more accurately, the dwarf’s approach.
“How did you get here so fast?” he asked breathlessly and jumped to his feet. He stared at the cleric a moment when Outsider didn’t reply.
“Oh, a simple spell really. One I learned in my younger days from an old wizard by the name of..” He scratched his balding head. “By Griphon’s beard, what was his name? Perhaps it was..” he rambled off to himself in deep thought.
The bounty hunter looked at the confused hobbit and he sympathized the feeling. “How is he?”
Thom stared at Merlon as he spoke. “He woke up a few hours ago.” He went quiet for a while before continuing. “He told me, that if he does pass on, he wants us to find his people without him.” His voice wavered as he spoke and he sucked in a shaky breath. “And not to worry about burying him; he’s meant for the earth either way.” Outsider pointedly looked away and pretended not to notice the puffy, pinkness of his little friend’s round eyes.
Instead he tapped the cleric, who was still talking, and pointed to Merlon.
“Oh, yes! Righto then, just give me a few moments to find my potions.” He set his pack down with a grunt and began rummaging around, his entire upper half within it.
“Potions? What potions?” Outsider demanded as the strange clinking sounds emanated from within the folds of the bag. Already he could picture the terrifying implications of potions made by this particular dwarven cleric.
“Relax.” he replied, muffled from within the sack. “I didn’t make them.”
That alone was enough to ease the elf’s apprehension. A moment later the cleric popped out of the pack with a handful of small vials. “These two will boost his strength temporarily, for after. This one will replenish what he has lost. And this one will help me.”
“What’s it do?” Thom asked, intrigued, and leaned forward as he craned his neck for a closer look.
The cleric laughed and downed the bottle no larger than his thumb in several long gulps. “Liquid courage!” he announced with a loud belch and bustled over to Merlon. The distinct odor of alcohol wafted past Outsider’s nose which crinkled immediately.
The cleric crouched beside his patient and squeezed shut his eyes as he prayed to Reiin to grant him the power to heal this good dwarf, a dear friend of his most trusted companion. Thom and Outsider watched him from a few feet away, silent and anxious. A few minutes passed by in silence as the somber group waited for something to happen.
Then he clapped his hands together with a snap and felt the telltale tingling in his fingertips and warmth in his palms. Flexing his fingers and popping his knuckles he placed his hands flat against Merlon’s chest. The dwarf stirred beneath his touch.
An hour passed as such; Outsider rubbing down Jiff and getting him fed while Thom tended the fire. He wanted food to be prepared when Merlon awoke despite the cleric assuring him the potions would more than suffice when he was at last finished. He stood and stretched out his legs which were sore from squatting so long.
“I’m getting too old for this.” he muttered though he was no older than Outsider and could easily live to three hundred. He looked to the others and smiled. “His heart was beating strong beneath my hands. The wound healed completely inside and out, though there is a nasty looking scar if one of you wants to check it out.”
Outsider shook his hand gratefully and grinned. “How long before he wakes?”
“Ohh, I’d say a couple of hours. It’s a tough thing to recover from such a—“ Merlon rolled to his feet in a sudden frenzy and spun around the camp, growling and roaring with spittle flying. “Or perhaps just a few minutes.” the cleric finished in astonishment.
The old dwarf regained his senses then and steadied himself against a tree. His face was struck with bewilderment and his eyes looked to each of them eagerly. They were pleased to see him up and appearing healthy. Even the color had returned to his beard, though the flecks of silver that had already been there still remained.
“What happened? What’s goin’ on? Where am I?” he blurted. He backed away as Thom reached out to calm him. “Last thing I remember is the battle. The orcs..”
“They got you good with a spear through the liver, so your friends took you here on the pass and I healed you.” the cleric answered as he noticed his companions were too surprised to do so. “And I must say you’ve done a miraculous job of taking to it! Why, I would say you’re the fastest recovering patient I’ve ever had or seen. Even my old mentor—“
Merlon roared over him. “I can accept all that. I’ve taken me fair share of battle scars. And my liver’s proven its mettle for years.” He cocked his head to the side and pointed to the other dwarf. “But I’m curious as to who the devil you are.”
“Of course, of course.” the cleric laughed and straightened formally. Wit
h a flourish, he bowed low, and announced grandly with much splendor, “I am Cuke Barleybeard, Cleric of Reiin, Seeker of Knowledge, and long time friend of Outsider!”
There was a moment's silence that seemed to last an hour, then Merlon’s face screwed up at the title and he looked to his friends. “Well that’s a stupid name now aint it?”
