The (sort of) Dark Mage (Waldo Rabbit)

by Nelson Chereta

  It was a heroic crusade against the forces of chaos and darkness.

  She was proud to be taking part in this heroic struggle. Melissa saw herself as a crusader helping to bring light to those in darkness. It was a war, but not every battle in it demanded bloodshed. Sometimes what was called for was a little kindness and help for those in need. If you could win over the hearts and minds of the people you could bind them to your cause.

  Melissa was here to once again try and convince Roger the hedgewizard to travel with her to the Misty Isle. Once most independents saw the groves of soulwoods, the Great Library, and the Hidden Lady they were overawed and more than willing to join the Order. Even those who refused returned home to spread stories of the wonders of Avalon.

  Right now the Order had a great deal of interest, not only in Roger, but in Lothas in general. There were hopes Dregal might soon join the Alliance. If Lothas could be enticed to join as well it would give them a long common border with Alteroth. They could begin cutting off trade routes and building up depots and bases for the inevitable war. So far as Melissa was concerned that day could not come soon enough. Every time she visited a royal court and told them about all the advantages of joining the Alliance she would always hear, ‘but what would the Dark Mages do to us?’ Avalon was far away, while Alteroth was close by. The thought of armies of undead lead by black robed mages could unnerve even kings.

  Melissa’s eyes swept southward in the direction of the enemy. The Dark Mages sabotaged everything they did. They had undermined the Alliance’s growth and opposed all of Avalon’s noble ambitions. Alteroth’s very existence was intolerable. They had to go and would go; it was only a question of when. It pleased Melissa to know her efforts here were one small step toward that glorious end.

  XXX

  Walking through Bittford Melissa noted the less than friendly reception the locals were giving her.

  People stared and made sure to keep their distance even when that meant crossing to the other side of the street. Children ran away or hid behind their parents. Some of the adults drew circles over their hearts. She waved to the villagers and called out greetings. Her efforts though only seemed to make the people more skittish. No one returned her greeting or even approached her.

  The reaction was not a total surprise. Most people, especially common folk, feared all magic users. To many a wizard was every bit as terrifying as a troll or a vampire. That was part of why Avalon put so much effort into establishing their reputation with the people. Melissa had run into this sort of suspicion before and it did not particularly bother her. What was surprising was that these people were used to seeing magic and had a magic user living among them. She clearly recalled the people being much more receptive and friendly during her last visit.

  I wonder if anything has happened.

  When she sensed a fellow magic user nearby, she soon spotted a balding man in brown robes heading up the street in her direction. Melissa smiled and approached him. Running into him in the middle of the village was good luck; it would save her time.

  “Hello again Roger, I bring to you the blessings of Unity, Justice, and Peace.” She offered him a bow, something normally only reserved for those of noble birth.

  “Hello.” He did not return her bow, and made a point to keep his distance from her.

  She was surprised by his reaction. The last time she had been here he had insisted on buying her drinks and trying to get as close to her as possible. In the end he’d shown no interest in visiting Avalon or converting to her path, but he’d had plenty of interest in her. She had expected a far warmer welcome from him.

  “My name is Melissa; I tried to recruit you two years ago. We had some very lively debates about magic and how a mage can best serve the people. Perhaps you have forgotten?”

  “I remember you. What do you want?”

  She continued to smile. “Perhaps we could go to the Inn and talk a bit over some ale. As we did the last time we met. I have some interesting stories to tell you and I was thinking I could offer you some assistance if you’d like.”

  “What sort of assistance?”

  “If you’d like I could add some spells to your spellbook and offer you some magical ingredients.” That was a normal practice when trying to recruit others into the Order. You gave without asking for anything in return. It helped to build up trust, and it put the person you were recruiting into your debt.

  The offer was not always accepted, but she had never seen it spark anger before.

  “I see. So first you rob me, and then you offer to give me back what you’ve stolen. Is that the way of it?”

  “Robbed you?”

  “That’s right; one of your kind stole everything that I had! My spellbook, my wand, all my magical supplies, and all my money too! He was a white like you who came here with this beautiful girl named Alice he said was his wife. He just used her as a distraction to knock me out from behind and then take everything!”

  Melissa’s spine stiffened. “You must be mistaken. White Mages do not steal. I’m sorry if someone stole from you, but it could not have been a member of my order.”

  “He was a magic user, and he wore white robes, so what does that make him?”

  “An imposter,” Melissa answered without missing a beat.

  “Because White Mages don’t steal? I never believed your sort were as pure as you claimed. When a man talks about how honest he is you need to keep a hand on your purse.”

  “We do not stoop to criminal acts for personal gain.” When we commit crimes it is always for the cause.

  “Does that mean you would if it were for a greater purpose?”

  “We serve the cause of Unity, Justice, and Peace. When our cause comes into conflict with local laws or with petty officials, we are sometimes forced to take action for the sake of the greater good.”

  “So you admit your kind will break the law if it’s for the good of Avalon?”

  She frowned at him. “You are twisting my words.”

  “No. I am just calling you out on what you just said; you’re fine with breaking the law if it’s for a greater good.”

  “What I am referring to is punishing the guilty and protecting the innocent. No member of my order would ever commit theft. Such things are beneath us.”

  “What about forcing someone to join your order? I lose all my money and magical items, then lo and behold, another white shows up offering to help replace what I lost. But at a cost I’ll bet, like say my agreeing to visit Avalon with you?”

  “That is a ridiculous. I had no idea you had been robbed and I certainly was not going to demand anything in return for my assistance. My offer was made out of an honest desire to help a fellow magic user.”

  “How convenient.”

  Melissa took a deep breath. She had grown a thick skin during her years. He was hardly the first person to be rude to her. What was much harder to swallow were abuses aimed at Avalon and at the reputation of her Order.

  Roger hocked and spat on the ground in front of her feet as some peasant woman might have. “That is what I think of all you damn White Mages! You talk about honor and all that but then you’ll use dirty tricks to get what you want. Do you think me a fool? You expect me to believe its coincidence that one of you assaults me and leaves me with nothing just before you show up offering me your help? Some things are too obvious to be denied. You knew I would never agree to leave my home, so you did this to force me. Well it won’t work. My friends and neighbors will help me get by, and I would rather give up magic all together than join your kind.”

  “Roger, I give you my word that whoever it was that did this was not a White Mage. Did this man tell you his name?”

  “He said he was Waldo Rabbit, and the vixen he was with said her name was Alice Rabbit.”

  Melissa lifted an eyebrow. “He said his last name was Rabbit? Honestly? Come now, that’s a false name if I’ve ever heard one! What did he look like?”

  Walton crossed his arms over his chest
and narrowed his eyes as he answered. “He had white robes, like yours. He had golden hair, like yours. He had yellow eyes, like yours. He had pale white skin, like yours. He had the look of the Misty Isle. I’ve met two of your sort before and he would have fit in perfect with the both of you. He was a White Mage, no question!”

  The description was a problem. Most of the folk in Lothas and the surrounding lands tended to have dark hair and eyes of brown or green. Blondes were exceedingly rare in this part of the world. Yellow eyes were unique to the people of Avalon.

  “Could he have been using an illusion?”

  Walton snorted. “I’d have sensed it.”

  This was becoming more and more troubling. She had assumed this person was an imposter. The physical appearance argued against that. Could he be a deserter? It did happen from time to time. The Order made many demands of its members, and some lacked the commitment and strength of will needed. Abandoning your sacred duty was a crime punishable by death. The first thing deserters normally did was throw away their robes and flee as far and as fast as they could. Lothas was pretty far from the isle. Could some deserter have come here thinking he would be safe? Possibly, but why keep your robes in that case? It was like flaunting your crime to the entire world and asking the Order to come and hunt you down.

  Whoever this man was his actions had hurt the reputation of Avalon and all White Mages everywhere. That could not be tolerated.

  “This Waldo Rabbit is no White Mage, I promise you. I will find him and punish him, not just for his theft but for the far greater crime of impersonating a member of my order. I will return with his head and with all that he stole from you.”

  “I don’t believe a word of it.”

  “I don’t tell lies.”

  “That’s what a liar would say.”

  The way he glared at her it was obvious nothing she said would change his mind. So she offered him a bow, said a pleasant farewell, and walked away.

  She was sure when she came back with this imposter’s head in a sack that would convince him.

  Chapter 29

  A True Knight

  This was the time she liked best, early evening. It was summer, so there was no need for the fire place. Torches along the wall provided all the light needed. The Inn of Lost Sighs was filled with customers, almost all of them regulars. Her girls were working. They were either sitting with customers here on the ground floor or else satisfying their desires up in their rooms.

  Elsa watched as her soiled doves interacted with her patrons. They smiled and laughed and gave the men they were with all of their attention. Her girls rubbed sore shoulders and caressed arms and legs. They made the men who came here feel wanted in a way their wives or girlfriends never could. It was a feeling every man hungered for.

  It was a game, an illusion, a slow seduction.

  Except for the youngsters, all her customers knew that none of it was real, but that didn’t make their pleasure any less. Here every man could pretend to be handsome and strong and charming. He could talk to a beautiful woman without fear of being rejected or mocked.

  Many of her guests came here just for that, the chance to enjoy a woman’s company. To pretend the interest she was showing him was real and not part of an act. They would spend their coins on ale and food and were happy.

  As Elsa watched, Nancy leaned over to her customer and whispered a suggestion in his ear. The man gave an eager nod and hurriedly finished his ale. Nancy then took him by the hand and led him towards the stairs. A couple of his friends lifted their mugs and shouted at him to ride her long and hard.

  Elsa chuckled. Yes, some of her customers were happy with a meal and some drinks, and a little attention. Others just wanted spread a woman’s legs open and slip inside. Well, either was fine, so long as the customer had the coin. Every meal, every drop of ale, and every trip upstairs brought her profit. The Inn of Lost Sighs wasn’t simply a whorehouse, it was a place that catered to the wishes of its customers, and strove to make each one happy.

  Given how busy they were she estimated her take from all the sales would come to between fifteen and twenty silver dalters. A good sum, no complaints. Of course it paled besides what she’d made about two weeks ago when that black wizard had suddenly shown up and bought Alice. In one transaction she’d made about three months income. All the trouble she’d put up with from that girl had been more than worth it.

  Though there was still one more issue to deal with there.

  The immediate aftermath, when that stupid wizard had gotten himself killed, Alice had revealed herself. The fact Elsa had, had a succubus working for her had threatened to ruin her reputation. In Lothas people, especially those of the upper classes, looked down on brothels and prostitutes. They were however more or less accepted as necessary. Men had needs after all.

  Lusting after a monster though was another matter entirely. That was bestiality; a sin against all things decent and against nature itself. Any man who would fornicate with a monster, even one as lovely as Alice, was considered disgusting and beyond contempt. No self-respecting man would ever admit to being attracted to a monster, that would be like confessing you wanted to have sex with a cow.

  So given the fact that half the men in Stratford had been hungering for Alice, her suddenly exposing her true form had been a serious problem. If anyone had thought she’d known the truth Elsa would have lost everything. She would have been lucky to escape with the clothes on her back and a whole skin.

  Fortunately, she’d always had a sharp wit and a sense for sudden changes in the wind. Elsa had immediately joined in with the crowd shouting about her horror and shock at the discovery of what Alice really was. Sweet dear Alice a monster? How horrible! Who could anyone have guessed? Since no one else had known the truth, and since so many had been fooled, everyone had just accepted that she had been tricked as well. After the initial shock people quickly decided to not speak of it any more. By mutual consent Alice was to be forgotten and no one would admit to ever wanting her.

  Elsa had soon recruited a new fourteen year old girl to serve as the bar maid. Mossa was pretty and cheerful and worked hard at her new job. She was friendly to all the men who came here and got along well with the staff. Unfortunately she was also flat as a board and a bit on the plain side. The customers had no complaints about her, but none of them wasted much time on her either. Certainly none of them were coming here just to stare at her all night. Her girls were actually pleased by the change; they had always resented Alice’s charms and the way so many men had fawned over her. Elsa’s soiled doves had welcomed plain faced Mossa with open arms and made her feel right at home.

  Elsa was satisfied, and in a couple years, if Mossa blossomed, would make her a soiled dove. Alice was gone, but she had made a hundred gold pieces from her. The chaos caused by her revelation had passed and things had returned to normal. Her business was running smoothly and she was content.

  She had only one worry.

  As if summoning him, the door to the common room burst open and in he strode; Sir Lancel Griffinheart. As he always did, he entered with head held high and with a confident air. The way he walked with shoulders back and with long easy strides, it was clear he expected people to get out of his way. He was the heir of the Griffinheart family and all of its vast lands and wealth, a superb horseman, skilled with the lance and the sword, the possessor of the magical blade Steeltooth, the slayer of the troll of Red Rock, a distant relative to the royal family and nineteenth in line for the succession. In short he was one of the richest and most powerful men in Lothas.

  Everyone in his way quickly moved. They bowed and murmured words of respect and deference. If Lancel even heard them he paid no mind. He was wearing steel plate armor with his family’s crest emblazoned on its front. Holstered by his side was his magical broadsword along with a dagger and a fat purse. Following in his wake were six men at arms, all in chainmail and with long swords and daggers of their own. Wherever Sir Lancel traveled he always kept his loy
al men close by.

  Lancel was a tall, muscular man with a rugged face. It was a handsome face, but the features were all rigid. There was not an ounce of softness to it. One look and you were certain that this was not a man to cross. His grey eyes were especially unnerving, they seemed to always carry a threat of malice, even when he smiled or pretended to be charming. Sir Lancel could be most chivalrous when he chose and most generous. Just so long as he got what he wanted.