Steel, Magick and Faith: Book 1 of The Remus Rothwyn Chronicles

by T.P. Grish

   

  ‘You too know the sting of prejudice, Remus, though you maintain your aloof air’, said the man called Ardharwin, who had pulled his hood down. He was a slightly plump yet energetic man, kind oblong face framed by a soft, drooping moustache and bearded chin. ‘I will gain nothing by telling the townspeople of your… rituals, I will not betray you’, responded Remus sincerely. Elaina joined in the soon-resumed dancing with ease, Remus sitting down and partaking of the meal laid out by the campfire; sitting close to a Witch in order to not seem aloof. The Witch was eating of the meal and smiled at Remus; who recognized her as the town wool-man’s daughter. He looked around, not seeing the wool-man. So these few people routinely hide from the rest of the townspeople, in order to partake secretly of their nature rituals?

   

  A good decision, mused Remus, as they would be accused of being evil magicians in short order. But, did they really have powers? Remus was treated callously by the local people, but looking back, the local people by the campfire were people who had treated him relatively decently around the town in the past. ‘Hello’, Remus greeted the wool-mans’ daughter. Smiling wittily, the golden-locked, wan woman said ‘Good of you to join us, Remus. We have not talked much before, but my name is Melisahn’.

   

  Breathing the fresh air and taking in the view, Remus queried, ‘What is this ritual you are performing? I had no idea some of the townspeople were engaged in…’ Remus caught Elaina glancing at him in mock-annoyance at his inquisitiveness. The words caught in his throat at something else, too. Elaina cast an exquisite figure dancing in the circle, slender limbs and blue-streaked flax hair glowing; her face haunting. It disturbed his sense of place to view his oft-reluctant friend in this light.

   

  Melisahn was responding to his question, so he turned his attention to her. ‘We treasure the world around us, the natural world. We believe humankind does not have to be at war with the mystical forces here, we should embrace them. We have no… direct powers, which is what you were asking at, but we yearn for a day when our fellows would be more enlightened’.

   

  ‘Many forces of Feykind attack and hurt humans. What is your opinion of this?’ Remus challenged.

   

  ‘Nature would not fight with us so much, if we could find a way to communicate with these forces’.

   

  Remus nodded reluctantly, holding back his retorts. Smirking dryly he asked ‘And what are your thoughts on me, am I enlightened? I do search for knowledge in my own way’. She replied ‘Your method of ‘searching’ is cold, clinical. We have all seen you wandering about, penning in a tome. It is nothing by itself, you see, except acquiring information. It can be used for good, or…’ her voice trailed off as she chewed the leg of bird in her hand.

   

  The rest of the evening saw him observing passively, yet contentedly. Elaina chatted easily with the Witches, who, as the night wore on, had the weary apprehensiveness of the mundane life they must rejoin very soon. Questioned about the incident that occurred in High Peaks that morning, they spoke of sympathy for the girl; who was recovering. A few spoke spitefully of Weylin, but did not make the usual slander the other townspeople would, at the Touched of the world. Elaina seemed to be held in very high esteem by these individuals.

   

  Remus began to piece these events together. This was certainly a side of the town he had not seen, a secret faction so to speak. They would meet every week or two, and on special occasions; and they passed secret messages to members of their order during daytime hours. Besides that, no mention was made of the meetings during their normal life, no conversation had between members besides the talk of normal town life. On the appointed meeting nights, they would either sneak out or make excuses for leaving. Travelling at night was dangerous, but could arguably be unavoidable in certain trades. Remus and Elaina left as soon as the meeting was dying down. The brandy-haired man had a contented and long night’s sleep, as did Elaina in her house.

   

  CHAPTER 3

   

                                                                 

  The next day Remus and Elaina spent indoors, meeting at Remus’s house. Peering out the window every now and then, it was obvious that the peasants were still testy from the previous day’s events. The pair were determined to keep a low profile for the next couple of days, and to recover from their trek through the woods. Over Duusil tea and baked bread with eggs, Remus queried Elaina about her history with the Witches. She said she had run into one of their meetings years ago, and had kept it from Remus because she did not want to make life in High Peaks even more complex for him.

   

  She reasoned that if he followed his characteristic desire to study the Witches and their beliefs, he could inadvertently get them and himself in dire straits. To the crafty young man, it was obvious her involvement with them was a little more developed, but he let it go for now. Remus noted the irony that his knowledge of the Witches actually made him less sure of his position in the world, as now he could not compartmentalize all of the townsfolk in one category.

   

  That day of rest was all that they got, for they woke up the next morning to a ruckus around town. Strapping on basic equipment, they walked down the road; crisp grass cracking under their feet in the grey pre-dawn. Groups of people seemed to be talking and shouting in panic, but before they could analyze the scene, an explosion of activity to the side alerted them to danger. A group of three peasants rushed them, two armed with rusty yet wicked swords, one with a nasty sickle. Their posture and clenched jaws made it obvious the day would see fatalities, not discussion. Neither Remus or Elaina were real warriors, the sudden adrenaline of impending combat terrified them and set them back on their heels. Two of the men attacked Remus, one of them heading for Elaina.

   

  Unbuckling and raising his hand axe in one motion, Remus deflected the vicious, inward curving jab of the first attacker’s sword. His second assailant dashed to Remus’ left, swooping back in to Remus with a two-handed, sideways sweep of his sickle. Remus shoved the first attacker with his shoulder, breaking the sparking deadlock of axe and blade. As the sickle homed in Remus kicked out with his right leg, connecting on the second attacker’s left knee. Using that stance for balance, Remus swung his hand axe at the man’s left arm, catching it just before the elbow prior to the sickle landing. Gasping in pain, the young man, who was probably still a teenager, retreated. Remus had not swung with full strength, trying to avoid a fatal brawl, but the axe had cut deep in the arm, and the bruised skin around the cut belied the crushing damage. His sickle hung in his retracted right arm.

   

  Remus risked a look at Elaina. She was dodging swipes of her burly attacker’s sword, her form was blurred and impossibly fast. The man seemed to be slowing in his attacks, and a thin layer of frost seemed to be growing on his clothes and head. He fell to his knees, breath coming out in clouds, drool slipping out of his mouth and freezing into tiny icicles on his jaw. Aware that she had the situation in hand, Remus quickly snapped back to his own predicament.

   

  The two men had regrouped, fiercer than ever. ‘Wait!’ Remus yelled, ‘What provoked this? I do not wish for anyone to die!’ ‘Murdering freak!’ one of the men yelled. Remus’s face contorted in confusion, but he had seen the same expressions the men bore on their faces, before. They would not listen to reason, they had decided it was just to murder he and Elaina- what event had affected these ignorant folk to take this action would have to be discovered later.

   

  Remus had survived a few skirmishes with animals, minor Fey and humans before; and had practiced and studied fighting by himself erratically. Lacking real combat experience and expert training, he was no weapons master, but a decent fighter nonetheless. Against two crude peasants, th
e confrontation could go either way.  Remus tightened his grip on the hand axe in his right hand, and slipped his left hand to the hidden net tucked under his belt. The cretin with the sickle advanced slowly towards Remus directly, while the other man circled around. They were trying to flank him. If he was attacked from front and behind one of the two would end up skewering him.

   

  Remus went on the attack, swinging his hand axe in a downward arc at the sword-wielder’s neck, this time fighting to kill. The man deflected with raised sword, and Remus used the momentum to launch a backhanded swing. The man barely managed to dodge the attack by shifting left. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other man readying for a swing. Remus quickly launched the net at the oncoming man with his left hand, it expanded as it went, tangling him. Turning back to his engaged target, Remus’ right arm had continued with the momentum of his missed swing, and Remus reversed his grip and brought the axe in a sidelong swing; right to left at the vulnerable man. The axe bit deep, just under the man’s kidney. Blood burst forth and the man screamed, dropping and squirming.

   

   Lifting his axe and taking a breath, Remus failed to notice the other man throw off the net in a fit of furious activity. As Remus turned he was face to face with the charging man, whose skinny face was etched with fury. He swung the sickle extremely fast, fury guiding swing after vicious swing. Remus managed to dodge most of the attacks, but one attack landed; the curving blade penetrating his leather armour and slicing into Remus’s stomach. Remus yelped in sharp agony, maintaining enough sense of mind to heft his axe. A dull whistle sounded and Remus felt a breeze, as the young man was blown six feet to the right, clothes and hair flying wildly. The man would take time to recover from Elaina’s well-aimed gust of wind, and Remus intended to take advantage of it.

   

  Rushing over, he kicked the sickle out of the boy’s hand, then hefted the boy; walking a few steps before rolling him unceremoniously down the rough-hewn path into town. People were staring or running away, and Elaina was running over to Remus; her assailant lying flat on his face behind her. ‘Palrinah’s wrath’ Elaina cursed, getting a good glimpse at the jagged cut on his stomach. Remus began to feel how severe the wound was, feeling a lack of breath or movement. He sat on the ground cross-legged, and let Elaina weave her spell of healing. Reciting words that sounded truly beautiful, she moved her hands over the wound. Remus’s pain doubled, but it was a purifying pain. Soon, looking down, he saw the wound had slightly closed and narrowed, the bleeding dramatically slowed. A cold burn inside his gut told him no infection would spread.

   

  Standing up gingerly, he looked at Elaina. She had a minor nick on her right shoulder, otherwise was fine. The lummox must have managed to scratch her whilst she was dodging. While Elaina was bandaging his wound, he reached for a strip of gauze. Despite her protestations, he bandaged her shoulder. Both friends stabilized, they realized some groups of peasants still stared, wild-eyed. The teenager had long ago run off, the other had died of his wound. The large man who attacked Elaina was dead and pale, as if his blood had been frozen internally. Elaina, as a Touched, could utilize both the forces of water and wind.

   

  Remus glanced at Elaina with new-found respect, but she just stared at the corpse with a look of shamed sorrow on her face. They were justified in defending themselves, but Remus had to admit he felt rotten for hacking one man to death… these were normal people who were just scared at the unknowns in the world. Wrapping his arm around Elaina’s shoulder, he decided they must continue on and uncover what had triggered the commotion this morning. Obviously the people were scared and wrathful because of what happened with Weylin, adding to their initial hatred of outcasts. But it did not explain why the three random peasants were inspired to try to kill them.

   

  ‘What happened here?’ Remus and Elaina barked at the gawking peasants, ‘What is going on?’ One bitter man replied resolutely, ‘Missionaries from Telruth were supposed to arrive this morning, from the Steelwielders. They have not. We also found a young child… dead in the woods this morn. We don’t know whose son it is, but we know this is evil fey work! The Touched devil should have been killed, along with ye who associate with him!’

   

  The gravity of the death hit the two like a load of bricks, overriding their usual sense of disgust at the peasant’s ignorance. Remus and Elaina backed off to discuss the issue. ‘A child dead, and a missing caravan’ whispered Elaina. Remus confirmed what they both knew, ‘We have to make sure this ends well… as well as possible, lest the townspeople get afflicted with even greater paranoia’. Although most horrific, there was nothing they could do to save the deceased child now, so it was decided they should go aid the missing caravan, whose members may still be alive. With a quick inspection to make sure their wounds had not reopened, they set off on the main road in the direction of Telruth. The main road began on the outskirts of High Peaks. They passed a few locals combing through the woods, but soon they were alone, walking on the side of the road. Elaina queried ‘How did this child die? Could it have been-’, ‘Wild animals, forest fever, thirst. It could have been many things Elaina, there is no indication that it was Fey’. Elaina’s quizzical expression held more questions than answers.

   

  After some passage of time, they began to hear faint sounds… sounds of battle, from beyond a curve in the road. Glancing at each other, they ran around the bend to view a chaotic scene. An upturned wagon was the centerpiece of a contested fight between a band of humans and dwarves. Dwarves… out in the open! The humans, dressed in sensible outfits of chain link, swatted and thrust at the oncoming dwarves with short pikes. The exception was one finely dressed human crouched behind the wagon with a bow, standing up periodically to launch an arrow at the dwarves.

   

  The dwarves were a blur, torchlight briefly illuminating bestial snarls on their faces as they rushed the humans from of the darkness of the forest. The creatures would rush, impossibly fast, towards the men and women, only to be deflected or parried by a weapon. They would scurry forward into the foliage on the other side of the road, with a few jumping back to cover or seemingly disappearing into the darkness. Tense moments later, they would launch another strike, the beleaguered humans beset on both sides by sporadic terror. One man lay dead, caked in blood.

   

  Remus and Elaina saw the inopportune fate that occurred to one man who failed to deflect a dwarf’s charge. The dwarf rushed, attacking his leg, snapping bone with an audible crack. The man yelled but managed to shift his weight off his broken shin bone, in order to maintain the loose semicircle formation the men had formed. Remus was not sure whether the dwarves attacked with their club-like arms, sometimes thinking he could see crude, jagged weapons in their arms. Elaina acted first, enacting a cloud of frost centered on the dwarves, slowly freezing their very life. Remus wondered for a second whether they should take any side, but snapped out of it and ran at the dwarves. Reaching into a pocket, he threw a cloud of steel caltrops in the ground between the caravan and the dwarves on both sides; hefting his hand axe as he ran.

   

  The deadly fracas continued, Elaina maintaining the spell on the hard-to-pin dwarves, and Remus struggling to sight targets long enough to chop at them. Eventually, the dwarves starting slowing slightly, due to the enchanted frost permeating them, and one or two stumbled on the caltrops, losing the focus of their charge and enabling the wagoners to stab them more easily. One dwarf was down and twitching, others showed scratches, wounds and a protruding arrow or two.

   

  The Fey regrouped, most launching themselves straight at the wagoners, this time engaging in melee and not backing off into the caltrop field. The longer reach of the humans clashed with the fierceness of the dwarves, resulting in a bloody drawn-out battle that saw lines of blood stain the toppled canvas wagon-cover under their feet. At least one dwarf headed for R
emus, and the man soon saw the wisdom of the wagoner’s polearms. Remus’ hand axe was a sidearm, he could never afford or bother to purchase a proper military weapon. He desperately launched sweeps of his axe to fend off the dwarf and its wicked looking weapon. Eyes like red darts of light and hot breath bored into his face from the dwarf fighter, a nightmare become real. Elaina’s second spell snapped off branches of surrounding trees and sent them dancing around the dwarves, occasionally lining up to smash into one’s back or skull.

   

  It was a deadlock. Eventually the dwarves would, hopefully, perish from the ongoing magic attacks; but the dwarves might overrun the humans and hack them to pieces before that happened. A tremendous bang and a flash, caught everyone’s attention, followed by a smell of chemicals. One of the humans held a large, complex device in his hand, vaguely reminiscent of a crossbow. Smoke drifted up from its muzzle. A dwarf lay splattered against a tree, a gory wound in its chest. The Fey ran off into the woods, morale broken. Soon there was no trace of them, apart from the havoc wreaked. ‘Had to find the right moment, to get sight of the beast’, the man huffed.

   

  He was a large, grey-haired man with noble features and prominent brow; dressed in the same chain link outfit as the others. Remus approached the man, musing that he must have drawn the device from the wreckage of the wagon… unless he had stored the instrument on his person. Elaina approached hesitantly, mistrust showing plain on her features. The grey-haired man approached, with a broad smile and extended hand, ‘Albertus, Albertus Hinntharo. You two young folks just saved our hides, I would wager’. Remus introduced himself and Elaina. ‘High Peaks must be close by, permit me to pack up what we can, then I would be obliged if you would show us the way… Remus’. Bandages and splints were improvised, a few spilt supplies gathered. The fancily dressed man had stood up and shouldered his bow, his fair face and features belied his Norlathan heritage. Two caravan guards were dead, Albertus and his comrades inspecting their bodies somberly to see if they still drew breath. There was nothing they could do for them at this moment; their bodies would be retrieved for burial once the surviving members were healed and out of danger. Soon the ragtag band headed back to town, Remus and Albertus at the lead; and Elaina imparting minor healing magicks and support to the wounded as they walked.