by Dante King
“It’s no problem,” Jacques said. “I’m actually proud of you, William.”
“And I’m more than pleased to hear you aren’t ashamed of a little bed-sharing,” Mistress Blossom said. “It gives me something to work toward. A lady must have ambitions, after all.” She gave all three of us a salacious smile.
I wasn’t opposed to having the Mistress in my bed; it might even lead to an additional affinity, but tempting as that was, now definitely wasn’t the time.
“Let’s focus on the present,” I said. “We need to finish our breakfast and prepare for our journey north once we’ve got the information from Governor Arnold. Has Arnold returned yet?”
“Not yet,” Mistress Blossom replied. “I sent one of the tavern patrons, a man who owes me a debt, to scout the road that leads north out of Brightwater. He saw the Governor and said that he should be back within the hour.”
“Then we have an hour to prepare,” I said. “As soon as the Governor enters the gates, we need to speak with him. Can you arrange that, Mistress Blossom?”
“I can,” she said. “I’ll leave you all to it until I hear word of his arrival.”
I thanked the Mistress, and she smiled around at all of us as she clattered the last of the dishes onto the tray and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Veronica and Amelia both kissed me and left to prepare for our journey.
“While you’re eating, William, there was one other thing I thought I should explain to you,” Jacques said once we were alone. He flinched as I looked up at him quickly.
I glared at him. “I’ve only just forgiven you for holding back the news about Katlyn as long as you did. Now you’re saying there’s more?”
“In my defense, telling you about Katlyn earlier wouldn’t have helped.”
“I know, Jacques, but it’s been too long since I’ve been able to give you a hard time. I’m not letting you off the hook quite that easily.”
“This isn’t bad news.” Jacques put his hands up, defensively. “It’s actually to do with that dagger your foster-father gave you, the one you use for the tattooing. It’s capable of more than you know.”
I relented. My interest was piqued by now. “I suppose that could redeem you. But how can you know about this dagger? Gregory gave it to me, and I don’t remember ever showing it to you. Amelia thinks it might be very old, and we found that it actually has a hollow tip as if it’s designed for tattooing.”
I picked the dagger up from the side table and turned it over in my hands. What other secrets could it hold?
“I know about that dagger of yours,” Jacques began, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down, “because it was I who gave it to Gregory. You know that he and I spent much time together in the years before he adopted you.”
I nodded. Jacques had been around Aranor for a number of years, even before Gregory had taken me in. I knew very little about that past, but then, knowing the sorts of things Jacques tended to get up to, I suspected that Gregory might have not wanted me to know. He had always tried to set a good example to me.
“Well, I didn’t know you gave it to him,” I said. “Where did you get the knife from? And why did you give it to him?”
“I brought it with me from the Sunlands. As to how I acquired it, that story is too long to be told today.”
As interested as I was in the tale of how Jacques had come to own the dagger, I was more interested in what made the dagger special. We had to find Katlyn, and that would mean encountering trouble. Any additional edge we might gain by learning some of this unique item’s additional capabilities would serve us well.
“So, what’s so special about the dagger?” I asked Jacques. “Beyond the fact that it’s well suited to making Ink Mage tattoos, of course.”
“The dagger is an elemental blade.” Jacques leaned back, as if he’d said everything necessary.
“And? What does that mean? I don’t know what an elemental blade is.”
“Whoa, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Jacques held up his hands as if to ward off an attack from me.
I smiled and opened my mouth to contradict him, but Jacques stopped me. “I know, I know, you got up with two naked women in your bed, I don’t think there is a wrong side of the bed to be on.”
“Well, mostly naked. Amelia did have some clothing on.” I chuckled. Jacques did have a way of putting everyone in a good mood, even if it came, more often than not, from his untrustworthy charm.
“Well, go on,” I said. “What does an elemental blade do?”
“I don’t understand these things in the kind of detail Amelia does, I’m afraid. I’m no scholar. You’ll have to ask her later if she can explain the precise workings better than I can, but here is what I can tell you. The dagger can directly channel your elements.”
“So, it’s like a Mage’s vector weapon?”
“Not at all. A Mage’s weapon has runes on it, like the ones you’ve tattooed on yourself. This dagger can be augmented into new shapes with elemental magic.”
“What does that look like?” I asked.
“You’ll have to try it out for yourself and see. If my understanding is correct, it should enhance and change the shape of the dagger.”
“Well, I’ve tried putting my fire onto other weapons before. I guess it couldn’t be too different from that.”
“You normally put the fire straight out through your hand, yes?”
I nodded.
“That would make the blade hot,” Jacques said. “When I acquired this dagger, I was told something about treating it as an extension of my body. That meant nothing to me, having no magic of my own, but perhaps it’s something you can try?”
I looked at the dagger and considered it. I knew of nothing in principle that would stop me from doing such a thing. I’d never thought about trying to channel Mana into the dagger, but then, until recently I’d never thought about trying to channel Mana through my tattoos.
As I stared at the dagger, I thought about it as part of me. I couldn’t feel anything different, but I would have to see if I could put Mana into it. I considered channeling fire. That didn’t seem like a great idea in a tavern built of wood. If it worked, I had no idea how much fire it would produce. For all I knew, this little dagger could become a blazing inferno if I didn’t know how to control the process of channeling elemental energy through it.
I held the dagger in my right hand, as close as possible to my Cold tattoo. At first, I tried pushing Mana straight into my tattoo, but when the runes lit up, my hand started to produce ice.
“It’s not working,” I said. “My Mana is trying to cast a spell, not manipulate the shape of the dagger.”
“Why use a tattoo?” Jacques asked.
“Right,” I said. “I should try to channel the element without using my tattoo. I’ll give it a shot.”
This time, when I took my Mana, I pushed it through my hand and directly into the dagger, rather than into the tattoo. Mana flowed out into the shaft of the dagger. A dark shadow appeared, an extension of the dagger, about a foot longer than the blade itself. I moved the knife back and forth a couple of times. The shadow was a part of the blade. I passed my fingers through it. There was nothing there. The shadow flowed over my hands but did nothing.
“That’s part of it done,” I said. “But it’s not infused with an element. And it doesn’t seem to work if I channel through my tattoo. I wonder. . . is there a way to channel my elemental affinities without a tattoo or a spell?”
Jacques furrowed his brow. “I do recall the person I obtained the knife from mentioning something about that. The dagger should be able to use affinities without the need for runes.”
“Then there has to be some way to make this work,” I said.
I tried a third time, but when I gathered my Mana, I thought of the Cold element, and the beautiful Ice Queen I’d seen in my vision. A chill raced down my spine, and I knew for certain that my Mana was now imbued with the C
old element. I pushed harder and then, with a sudden relief, broke through the resistance.
I smiled and concentrated, pulling Mana out into my right arm again and channeling it all into the dagger. Unlike before, the resistance was lower, as I became familiar with the sensation.
A crackling sound broke the silence of the room. I saw the silvery reflection of the dagger growing dim as it was coated in frost. Ice cracked and split and grew its way over the dagger until it was the same size as the shadow blade had been before, about a foot longer than the original blade, and the handle was much larger too. Unlike the dagger, which was small and delicate, this was an edged weapon, curved, heavy and dangerous looking.
Once this remarkable weapon had formed, it maintained its stability; I did not have to continue feeding Mana to keep it going, the way I did with my other spells. Experimentally, I pushed a little more Mana to it, and was rewarded—the blade extended and thickened, very quickly. Hastily, I withdrew my Mana, and it took a more practical size again.
This was certainly very impressive and could be very useful. I couldn’t wait to experiment with it outdoors. Would this allow me to use my new Lightning affinity even though I didn’t have a Lightning tattoo yet? The possibilities were huge.
“You’re forgiven, Jacques,” I chuckled, admiring the glittering ice blade.
He grinned. “Glad I could be of service.”
At that moment, the door opened, and Amelia and Veronica walked in. They were both washed and dressed and looked ready for the road. They were talking and laughing together when they opened the door, but they both stopped in the doorway and stared, amazed, at the elementally infused weapon in my hands.
“What is that?” Amelia asked, her mouth wide with surprise and not a little scholarly interest. “How are you doing that?”
I withdrew my Mana again, and the ice sword smoothly disappeared, the Mana which had formed it flowing back up my arm and absorbing back into my pool. I was left holding the tattooing dagger, which looked small and inconspicuous compared to the huge sword I had been holding a moment ago.
“This dagger is special, more special than we knew,” I said. “I can explain the rest later. Amelia, I told you it was a precious gift from my foster-father, but I didn’t know he got it from Jacques. I’m not sure why Gregory kept that secret.”
Jacques coughed. “You knew your old man; he liked to have a bit of fun, but he never wanted to know the details about how I’d procured my wares. The reason I gave it to him, well… That story will have to wait for the road as well.”
“Let’s get going then,” I said. I stuck the dagger through my belt and moved to pick up my pack, which still had Amelia’s book inside it. “If you’re all ready, we’ll go and see the Mistress about some supplies. Hopefully by then the Governor will be back in town and we can get our information and get on the road.”
With a final glance around the room to make sure I hadn’t left anything, I headed out. I held the door for the others then closed it behind me. The soft thud of the door closing on the comfortable room felt like closing the door on my old life. No longer was I an innocent farm boy with little knowledge of the world. No longer was I even a novice Mage experimenting with his powers in the wild. I was an Ink Mage, experienced at tattooing and using tattoos. I had three Elemental affinities and an Elemental weapon, and I also had two beautiful Rune Sorcerer companions and my old friend Jacques at my side. These three were committed to helping me on my quests now, and the obvious bond of respect and friendship which was developing between them was great to see.
I smiled. Perhaps rescuing Katlyn would not be so difficult after all?
We reached the common room of the tavern, which was strangely empty. Even at this early hour, I would have expected there to be some patrons eating and drinking. There weren’t ever any barmaids to be seen.
“Where is everybody?” Amelia wondered out loud. We stood in the empty room looking around.
“Mistress Blossom?” Jacques called out in a jovial tone. “Where can a man get a drink around here?”
There was no reply.
I was just about to suggest heading out into the square to see what was happening when the door burst open and a boy of about twelve rushed into the room. He glanced around, then his eyes fell on us and he ran over, calling out to us as he came.
“Are you the people who were looking for the Governor?” he panted.
“That’s right, lad,” I said. “What’s wrong? Has he arrived yet?”
“Oh, he’s arrived all right, sir,” said the lad, “but the Mistress sent me to come find you. They’re at the north gate. The Mistress says you’d better go quickly, and I’m to take you there.”
“What’s the trouble then?” I asked him.
“Oh, sir,” he said. “It’s that cursed Arcanist, the one who’s been staying at the Trading House. He’s gone and arrested Governor Arnold, and he says he’s going to execute him! The townsfolk are furious, and it looks like there might be a riot!”
I glanced at my companions, and three pairs of determined eyes met mine. This turn of events was bad. Not only did it endanger our chances of finding the information about Katlyn, it also threatened the town. If there were a riot, who knew what damage the angry, self-righteous Arcanist and his retinue of veteran soldiers might do?
Without a word, Jacques strode to the weapons rack at the door and picked up his own sword. It was a long, thin rapier with a deadly edge. Veronica and Amelia joined him, buckling on their own sword belts. The expressions of both women were grim.
After a moment’s thought, I picked up my own shortsword and buckled it on as well; I had my Elemental weapon now, and my tattoos, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a regular weapon to use if needed. In any fight, it was always wise to have options.
Veronica wasn’t wearing her breastplate, but I guessed she couldn’t use it anymore since she needed her tattoo uncovered for it to work. She reached up and loosened the collar of her tunic, ready to drop it and reveal her Lightning tattoo if necessary. Under her tunic, she was wearing the fine red leather top which covered her breasts but left her tattoo free to do its work.
The messenger lad watched our preparations in awe.
“Ready?” I asked, when everyone was done.
“Ready,” they all replied in unison.
I stepped forward and shoved the door open, leading my team out into the town square. “Let’s go rescue the Governor.”
Chapter Twenty
As soon as I stepped out of the door into the town square, I could feel the trouble brewing. On every side, the townsfolk of Brightwater were hurrying together toward the north gate. They moved in small groups, with no particular organization, but there was a sense of purpose in the air that made my hair stand on end.
“Come on,” I said to my companions. “Don’t draw your weapons just yet; we need to see what’s happening first.”
Jacques somewhat reluctantly sheathed his razor-sharp rapier and fell in behind us. I led the way, Veronica and Amelia at my side and Jacques a couple of steps back and to our left.
We crossed the square and followed the flow of people toward the northern end of the town. In the clear morning light, I saw that many of the villagers who were hurrying in that direction were armed. I saw several folk who, by their clothes, I guessed were miners like the ones I’d fought in the Sticks and Stones Tavern on our first night in Brightwater. I thought I caught a glimpse of Mohawk’s shriveled hair leading one cluster of unpleasant-looking fellows. He glanced in our direction but didn’t seem to see me.
Many of the other townspeople looked more respectable, and I could see more than a few of them pointing at me and my companions, nudging each other and whispering. I supposed that our fight in the tavern had given us a bit of a reputation, and the story of how we’d used our tattoos must have got around. From the admiring glances we received from a lot of the younger folk, I guessed that most people were pleased with us for beating up Mohawk and his gang. That f
igured. Bullies, however feared, were generally in the minority.
The lad who was guiding us seemed to notice this admiration, and he stood a little straighter as he led us across the stone-flagged square, proud of his status as messenger to us. Nice as it must be for him, I couldn’t help thinking that we were in for trouble. I’d have to get him out of the way soon.
We were halfway across the square when a sudden commotion at the north side caught our attention.
“Stop,” I said, holding up a hand. My companions stopped and closed ranks around me. The lad stopped too, instinctively drawing nearer to us.
At the far side of the square, a knot of people emerged from the shadowy tangle of streets. Leading them, in a tight square formation and with their pikes at the ready, came the cohort of soldiers we had seen with the Arcanist. They looked tense and grim, like men who were doing their job, but were not particularly happy about it.
In the middle of the square marched the Arcanist Maximillian. He was taller than the others, indeed, he seemed a head taller than any man I’d ever seen. Could that be part of his magic? He gazed imperiously out over the heads of the formation of soldiers as the whole group moved into the light of the town square.
Around the soldiers, muttering and shouting angrily, came a tightly packed but disorderly group of townsfolk. These seemed to be merchants and craftsmen by their clothing; they wore brighter colors and lighter shoes, not the heavy, dirty leathers of the miners. They had been jammed shoulder to shoulder into the cramped street, but as they emerged, they broke up, spreading out among the many townsfolk who had, like us, stopped in the square to watch the spectacle. Their angry murmur was picked up by the rest of the people in the square, rising to a threatening rumble.
“There’s at least a hundred people here, maybe more,” said Jacques. “And all armed.”
He was right. From pitchforks and cudgels to swords, spears, and shields, nearly everyone in the square bore some kind of weapon. Some even wore some bits and pieces of armor—a helmet here, a breastplate there, gauntlets, greaves, shin guards, a skirt of chainmail.
