“I can’t believe you were going to let me go out there pantless in front of all those people.” Endrance complained.
Selene blushed. “I wasn’t trying to do it on purpose, it just… slipped my mind!” she said defensively.
“Ugh!” Endrance exclaimed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think that having the people of Balator see every bit of me is a great idea. I don’t want to give them any more to laugh at me about.”
Selene turned away with a blush. “I don’t think they would find it laughable.” She murmured. Endrance was glancing back out the window and didn’t hear her.
“Okay, so I just do the dance, right?” Endrance asked. He and Selene walked into the other room where Bridget and Joven had been waiting. They were unsuccessfully attempting to hide their amused grins, and upon him walking in, they burst out laughing again.
Endrance stood there waiting, his face blank as they laughed out loud. He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yep.” He muttered. “This is going to be a great moment for my career.”
“It could be worse!” Joven exclaimed, chuckling. “You could… no, wait. I can’t think of anything worse. I’d rather go naked!”
Endrance hung his head, unable to form words that could express how embarrassed he was. He had a hard enough time being taken seriously by the barbarians; and dressing this silly was not going to help. He was going to be cold, vulnerable and mocked. How in the world was this ceremony supposed to be a show of his support?
“How did the other Spengur do this without being laughed out of the city?” he asked, sighing. Maybe they had some other magic.
He got an idea. Endrance turned to the three before him and pretended to clear his throat to get their attention.
“What if I do this?” Endrance asked. He cast a spell, and grinned as he saw their reaction. Bridget, Joven and Selene stared.
“Yes.” Joven said, again surprised. “Do that.”
“Wow.” Selene whispered. “So, that’s impressive.”
“If you’re a daisy, I guess.” Bridget said with a smirk. She pursed her lips when he glared at her. “Of course, it looks better than before.”
“I’ll do it then.” Endrance stated.
They finished their preparations, checked on the challengers and made sure Endrance had every motion of the dance learned. He drank an extra mug of hot mead to warm up, and nodded to the Draugnoa.
Without another word they exited the building, leaving Endrance alone with Joven. It would take them a few minutes to go through the opening ceremony, so he had a little time to talk to his bodyguard.
“Joven.” Endrance began. “Who do you think would be a good leader?”
Joven shrugged. “Well, Thorald’s got more wisdom than many of the younger ones, but Balen’s also supposed to run, so I don’t know.”
“Balen’s running?” Endrance asked.
“Aye, all the generals are.” Joven replied. “Except Rohl, since he’s afield and assumed dead.”
Endrance sighed. “Great. What about Kalah Varg?”
“The furie-cursed?” Joven asked. “She’s dangerously clever to have survived so long under her curse. Or has better self-control than most.”
“Sure. But no real leadership ability?”
“She had the required twelve subjects willing to cast in their fate with hers.” Joven replied. “Good enough to try for the Ascension.”
Endrance nodded. “What happens if someone doesn’t win?” he asked.
Joven shrugged. “Better luck next time.”
“Ah, at least there’s that.” The mage stated.
He heard three sharp raps on the door, the signal he was to come out. Endrance nodded to Joven and grinned. “Wish me luck.” He said, walking out the door.
Cold air bit at his bare feet, hands and face, but it was relatively still that evening. He saw the expectant faces of hundreds of men and women staring at him as he approached the circle marked out in the dirt twenty yards across. Around it, six groups of people stood equidistant from each other, bunched up thirteen per group. One leader and their twelve staunchest supporters stood ready for the ceremony.
Endrance could see several of the leaders, Balen included, struggling to maintain their serious demeanor. The civilians spectating, however, had no such restraint. Several waves of laughter and jeering echoed back towards him from the crowds. Endrance felt a knot in his stomach that made him want to run back into the house and hide.
Of course he couldn’t; all those people were facing their own destruction. And if dressing like a dandelion would save their lives, then he would do it. Even if they didn’t realize what he was doing in the process. That was the very essence of why they needed the Spengur.
Endrance looked up, spotting the flickering orange speck in the sky that was Gullin.
Gullin, come down to me. He directed. I want to give them some more light to see by.
The familiar screeched a loud tripartite note that echoed off the inner walls of the bowl as he plummeted into a nosedive. People looked up as the bird shot towards the Spengur, flickers of flame coming off the crimson feathered familiar in greater and greater quantities. Endrance could feel a faint draw on his aura as his familiar made a surely memorable display.
At what should have been an impossible last second, the Fjallar snapped his wings open, pulling out of the dive and rocketing over the roof of the house the mage had just departed, rattling the timbers. Wings flared, Gullin landed on Endrance’s left forearm. A wave of heat and embers washed past Endrance, causing several of the leaders to blink in surprise.
Gullin tossed his head back and let out a shrill, musical tripartite cry. A small bead of brilliant light rocketed from his beak into the sky, exploding into a ball of flames that hung in the air for several seconds.
During the display, Endrance had his right hand down at his hip, mostly behind his body and obscured from the spectators. While their attention was firmly anchored to the bird of crimson flame, he muttered the words of power and performed the one-handed mudras needed to cast the spell. He drew slightly more power into the spell than the formula would normally require, hoping it would evoke the desired effect.
The barbarians looked down from the fireball to see Endrance toss his familiar into the air with the thrust of his left arm. He released the spell he cast at that moment, speaking the final word of power aloud and with force as he exhaled his held breath.
The warmth spell, amplified as such, gathered up the hot air Gullin had dragged around him and kept it trapped. Invested power kept the air warm, and the only part that felt cold on his body was the soles of his bare feet.
However, the visual effect of the spell was what he’d been pleased with. The random swirls of hot air inches thick around his skin caused the strips of cloth to flutter, dance and shift as if they were alive of their own accord. His hair, unbound for the ceremony, also danced in a similar fashion. The zip-crack of the cloth strips rolling and snapping could be heard as they furled and unfurled in eddies of magic.
Without waiting to see their reaction, Endrance threw himself into the dance. He had practiced it enough times that he could do it without majorly screwing up, but he had been preparing for the dance only one day, and had some serious hope that the effects of his spell would make spotting any errors more difficult.
He followed the motions that Selene had instructed him, turning one way then another, and moving his arms and legs into the different positions that were ceremonial. It was a lot like the physical components of casting a spell, a revelation that made it suddenly much easier for Endrance to manage.
He had wondered if the dance really was a spell. However, without knowing the other required components, he would only burn power trying to realize it. Endrance moved about the circle, trying desperately not to stumble or fall over. Either way, he wouldn’t want to try casting something that different from traditional spellcasting without a lot of practice.
He came to the end of the dance and h
ad to make a decision. The dance had to end with him facing the one who was to receive his blessing. He closed his eyes as he did the final motions. In the end, he knew who he was going to choose.
Endrance came to a stop, and opened his eyes again. He took one step forward and bowed to Thorald Ivarsson.
“Go.” Endrance declared. “I will be pleased should you take the throne.”
Thorald looked shocked, glancing at first Endrance and then his supporters, who cheered. The elder man bowed back to the Spengur, smiling.
“I will ascend, and take the mountain under my fist.” He replied with the ceremonial response. “Or fall in glory trying.”
Endrance slipped the token off of his neck and handed him the wooden disk. Thorald took the amulet reverently, and at the moment the two held onto the same object Endrance activated the spell he had carefully laid into the wood.
“As long as you wear this over your heart, you will not tire tonight from fatigue.” Endrance said. “Use this token well.”
Endrance straightened, turning from the elder barbarian and walking to the center of the circle. Spreading his arms, he slowly began to spin.
“To everyone, fight hard, run fast; and if you die, die with honor. Do this, and I will withhold punishment for resisting me.” Endrance intoned. He dropped his arms at his sides, the flutter of shifting cloth the only sound as hundreds of onlookers watched with bated breath.
“It is time!” He shouted, using every drop of voice control he had. By consequence, his voice boomed over the silent crowds. “The Ascension begins now!”
With a shout, hundreds of men and women split to let the six groups through. They would have to siege the walls of each bowl of the city, gain entrance, defeat any of the challenges they encountered along the way, and finally seize the throne room. If the leader was critically wounded or prevented from continuing, they would be disqualified. If the leader lost all of his supporters to injury or other circumstances, they were similarly disqualified.
The citizens of Balator took the Ascension very seriously, and Endrance did not want to be in any of their situations. With only twelve subjects, the leader had to do what whole armies of men failed to do. Taking part in the Ascension meant that the person believed he was strong enough, fast enough, clever enough and a good enough leader to rule the largest ‘tribe’ of barbarians in the world. Endrance watched as the spectators dispersed, some to return to the walls, some to rush ahead to man challenges.
He was walking back to the house when Selene and Bridget joined him at either side.
“That was really impressive, Endrance.” Bridget said, slapping him on the back as she stepped up to him. The strips of cloth had shifted, and she had managed to catch him on bare skin with a solid smack. Endrance stumbled forward, his eyes watering.
“I liked the part with your bird.” Selene said, taking his other elbow.
Endrance nodded. “Yeah, that was a nice touch.” He said, grinning. “I hoped they would find it more impressive.”
“It’s going to make the next time this happens all the harder for your replacement down the line.” Bridget said with a smile. “Fjallar aren’t exactly easily found, you know?”
“No, I didn’t.” Endrance said.
“With the exception of your bird, we’ve only ever heard tell of them in the ancient times.” Bridget stated. “I didn’t think it could possibly have been one when you first called it, but I’m starting to see it now.”
“Gullin is pretty impressive, isn’t he?” Endrance asked, glancing up.
This is not even my full size. Gullin boasted, soaring high above.
“Well, I’m exhausted.” Endrance lied, giving each one a squeeze. I’m going to finish what little work I’ve got here, and will catch some sleep when I’m done.”
“Oh, I’ll wait.” Selene said. “I don’t mind waiting.”
“But they’re going to close the bowls down any moment now. If you don’t hurry, you might not make it home.” Endrance reasoned.
“Then we’ll sleep in that house.” Bridget stated.
Endrance sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy slipping away from them. “All right. Go ahead and get ready. I’ll join you two once I’m finished.”
Selene looked like she was about to protest, but her expression slipped from one of concern to a smile. “All right,” she said. “Don’t keep us waiting.”
Endrance smiled and nodded, watching the Draugnoa go into the house first. He wiped his face as soon as the door closed.
“Gods, what am I getting into?” he muttered. “If the wolfmen don’t kill me, the wives surely will when I return.”
You were the one who decided not to tell them. Gullin reminded him.
I know. The wizard replied. Did you pick up the things I asked for from the house?
Yes, though you did not leave the window open very far. The familiar complained. I nearly lost a few feathers squeezing through.
Sorry. Endrance replied. Drop them here and I’ll get going.
May I suggest changing first? As much as I enjoy seeing you look like a living bonfire, I would surmise that it is not combat effective garb. Gullin said, a hint of laughter in his mental voice. I will also add that it has no pockets and can therefore not carry the things you asked for.
That’s part of what I asked you to bring in the sack. Endrance retorted.
A large sack, full of some kind of heavy but soft material hit the ground right in front of him. Endrance nearly leapt back in surprise. Whoa! He exclaimed, looking up at the darkened sky. His familiar circled overhead.
Sorry.
No you’re not.
You are right. I hit exactly where I was aiming. Gullin replied smugly.
Go rest. I’ll call you if I need support. Endrance grumbled, digging through the sack. It had the change of clothes and the few small trinkets he’d crafted during his weeks since the battle with Kalenden. His tiger hide coat and gloves were inside as well.
You will. I will await your summons. Gullin replied.
Endrance looked around. Seeing no one, he stripped off the ridiculous costume and shoved it in the sack. Even stripped bare, the warmth spell he had cast was keeping him comfortable. He slipped into his new clothes stealthily and pocketed his tools.
As Endrance finished dressing, Gnaeus melted out of the darkness of the shadow from the house.
“Good, you are ready.” He said quietly. “We should go now.”
“Yeah.” Endrance agreed. “Before the women find out where I’ve gone.”
Gnaeus chuffed in what could only be a lupine chuckle. “Females.” He muttered as the mage swept past him.
Inside the house, Selene looked from the window to Bridget, who was pacing angrily behind her. “You’re right.” She said. “He is going somewhere.”
“Without Joven!” she exclaimed. “Or us!”
Selene tilted her head. “There’s a wolfman with him.”
Bridget rushed to the window. “A wolfman?” she exclaimed. Selene pushed her back. “Hey!”
“It’s one in armor.” She said. “It looks like one of the ones I talked to earlier.”
“What’s he doing with a wolfman?” Bridget demanded. Selene watched Endrance take off out of sight.
“He’s apparently going somewhere with them.” She replied, her frown deepening. “They’re moving towards the wall!”
“Oh hells no!” Bridget replied. “I’m getting my armor.”
Selene nodded. “We should go after him.”
Bridget led the way back into the main room where they’d left their bags of supplies, including Endrance’s change of clothes and their armor. His clothes were laid out on the table, as if he had just stepped out and was going to retrieve them. Bridget swept her arm across the table, knocking them to the floor.
The seed popped out of his pocket as it fell, bouncing across the wooden floor. Selene was distracted, untangling the knot on her clothes bag and didn’t notice. Bridget frowned, bending down to pick
up the object. It wriggled once in her grasp, and she dropped it again in fright.
The seed remained still and she reached back down and picked it up. It wriggled slightly, but didn’t open or dig it’s three little spines into her skin. She stared at it, puzzled. Endrance had said that it was supposed to help him get her arm back. But how? It was just a dumb seed. The scars on her shoulder ached, and she absently reached to rub it. The seed in her fingers jumped and wriggled as her hand neared the destroyed shoulder, She jerked her hand back.
“What are you doing?” Selene asked.
Bridget slowly and experimentally moved the seed closer to her destroyed shoulder. The closer it got, the more energetic the seed became. It seemed almost eager. She looked at the spines on the seed, at her shoulder, and then up at Selene.
“I think I know what you’re thinking, Bridget...” Selene said, her eyes wide. “I know you want your arm back, but shouldn’t we wait- No don’t do that!”
Bridget forcefully jammed the spiny end of the seed right into the middle of the starburst scar of her shoulder. A trickle of blood dribbled out, but nothing happened at first.
“Why would you do that?” Selene exclaimed. “What is wrong with you?”
“He didn’t come to us for help.” Bridget replied. “Why? We’re all he has! He has been taking so long trying to help us because he wants to protect us!”
The sting of the needles in her arm faded, replaced by an itching, warm sensation. The seed cracked in half lengthwise. From it tiny tendrils of green vine crept out and felt around her damaged shoulder.
“Take it out, quickly!” Selene shouted. “We don’t know what it will do!”
“Of course I know what it does!” Bridget replied. “You saw him send a message to a friend asking how to restore a lost limb, right?”
Selene nodded, staring as the tendrils dug into Bridget’s skin, fattening as they grew. She could see Bridget’s face pale and her eyes dilate in pain, but she kept talking.
“Well, I saw his friend send him this as a response. He was sending him a way to fix my arm!”
Spellscribed: Ascension Page 27
