S01E11 - Bell and Pony

*****

It had rained while Simon and I were occupied in my growlery, turning the warm tropical air into a muggy nightmare. My glaive clanked on the bricks and echoed off the shuttered buildings around us as we walked along. Balancing it over my shoulder, I wiped my brow and complained about the humidity.

"Didn't you cast Eiderdown?" Simon asked.

"Wait, what?" I said, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Describe the spell."

"It's a first-rank spell which uses an Aspect of Hercinia," he explained, uncomfortable at my sudden attention. "A celestial bird-spirit that covers her young to keep them safe and warm under her feathers."

"I'm familiar with the use of Hercinia for messages," I said. " But I've not heard this particular Aspect before. Teach it to me, please."

A few minutes later I had a description of the mythology and first-rank spell itself.

Simon and I had inscribed and activated almost two-dozen spellform today, completing the cantrips and first two circles. I channeled my new spell through my amulet, drawing on the power in first-rank circle of my locus. It'll refill in an hour and I could still short-form three of the eight spells connected to it if necessary.

"Hear me, O Hercinia, f'r the Pike swims close and the Heron watches with hungry eyes. Shelter me 'gainst the cruel world within the security of thy breast. Manifest around me: Eiderdown!"

A soft, ticklish sensation covered me, as if a great bird had covered me with her downy feathers. Heat and humidity were soon nothing more than an uncomfortable memory.

"Simon," I said, sighing in relief. "You're the absolute best."

"I'm surprised you didn't know that spell." He shrugged. "It's the first real spell I learned."

"Can't know everything." I replied. "Indred didn't include it either, so now I wonder just what else I don't know. Probably lots."

Probably enough to get me killed, I thought to myself.

I mentally tallied up exactly what I would be capable of once everything was activated. I could cast Spirit Maid —a specialised form of the first-rank spell Arcane Servant— maybe six times before I collapsed, which means I'm personally good for about six ranks of long-form channeling. The various circles in my locus will hold about 30 ranks of power and I can cram a lot of spellform on the walls of the growlery, but the bottleneck was the power locus itself. There was only so many channels I could connect and only so much power available.

My first-rank circle holds enough power for four first-rank spells and takes an hour to refill. Depending on conflicts and synergies, I can connect maybe eight or nine spellforms to that circle giving me a variety of choices, but a limited number of uses. There's a reason why some mages specialise, and that reason is you can have a lot more non-conflicting options if the spells are in the same school of magic.

So I selected spells that were tactically useful and would benefit from short form casting. Anything else I can long form, assuming I still have the power available.

I was still lost in thought when we arrived at the Bell and Pony, a cleanish-looking tavern just outside the market square and not far from the Cerisian embassy. The sign was bell-shaped, with enough faded flecks of bronze and brown paint still clinging to render the image of a pony on a bell. A minstrel was playing some bawdy song about a serving girl and her thirsty patrons which had the crowd laughing and clapping with the beat.

The smell of sweet pipe tobacco crawled up my nose when we walked in through the open doors and I was overcome with a craving for a smoke. I hadn't smoked since Tracy was born, giving up the habit so she wouldn't be exposed to it. It was one of the hardest things I'd ever done, and even years afterwards I would be stricken with intense cravings.

Right now, more than anything else in this world, I wanted a beer and a smoke.

The pub was filled with blueish smoke which curled in lazy streamers and drifted like a living thing, curling and writhing over the heads of the patrons. A small unlit fireplace was on the righthand side and a colourfully dressed minstrel played for the crowd of thirty patrons while a curvy young lady accompanied him. Our eyes met over the heads of the crowd for a brief moment, and then I was looking for Brice and Colin.

Simon found them on the left side of the tavern sitting in a booth. Their tabards of blue and red made them easy to spot among the civilians. With his helmet removed, I noticed that Brice had some grey coming in around his ears and wondered how old he really was. His face was just as youthful as that of Colin, but when I looked at his eyes I could see a certain hardness to them.

Placing my glaive in front of the booth I muttered the cantrip Immovable Staff and it stood upright like a planted tree.

"Looks like you've been busy today," Colin said, sliding out and motioning for me to get in. Brice did the same for Simon, putting us mages against the wall and acting as our defence. A subtle reminder that I was still squishy.

"About half done, I think. I'll need you guys to locate something for me and deliver it to the citadel tomorrow, if you don't mind." I said.

A pimple-faced serving girl carrying a platter of drinks swung around the bar and approached the table. "More drinks?" she asked in a cheerful lilt, not even batting an eye at my physics-defying weapon.

"We'll have whatever they're having," I said, pointing at the mugs on the table and looking at Simon for agreement. I wrestled an inner demon for a moment. "And if you have a pipe and a pouch of that sweet tobacco, I'd like that too."

"Drinks we got, tobacco we got, but I'll have to see if we got a pipe." She said, hustling towards the thirsty crowd surrounding the minstrel.

"Good enough!" I said, slapping a hand on the table.

"What do you need us to find for you," Brice asked, taking a pull from his mug.

"A chest. A lock box or strong box, actually," I told him. "The very best one money can buy. It doesn't matter what the outside looks like, but the inside has to be smooth panelled wood and it can't be more than one cubic metre in size."

"Something for your wizard-work?" Colin asked, holding his mug up as the serving girl passed.

"I'll be needing a place to store my stuff," I said. Looking at Simon, I asked, "Any idea what I'm going to do?"

He shook his head and I wondered how knowledge was passed to apprentices here. "You'll see tomorrow," I said, waving aside the topic.

Four mugs hit the table, along with a pipe and a pouch. "4 silver for the drinks, 5 gold for the rest." Our hostess announced. "Giorgi has a few in the back."

Brice dug in his pouch and produced the required funds. "You're gonna have paperwork, you know that eh?" he said to me.

I ignored him and grabbed at my prize. The pipe was made from rough cut brierwood, with a thin stem. The bowl was clean, apparently unused, but I wasn't picky at this moment. My hands trembled a bit as I stuffed it with apple-scented tobacco. Living out a childhood dream, I muttered the flame cantrip and fire licked up from my thumb. A few puffs later and a cloud of blue smoke floated above my head. A hard pull of dark bitter beer, and all was right with the world once more.

"Paperwork is a necessary evil, I suppose." I said, thinking about how I wanted to approach a certain topic. "Are you and Colin permanently attached to me for the duration, or do your baby-sitting duties end once we get back to Cerise?"

Brice considered the matter. "Just baby-sitting, as far as I know." He said. "Why do you ask?"

I looked at both men and leaned forward a bit. "I like the both of you. You seem easy to get along with and I wouldn't mind you sticking around, if you wanted to. I'm sure it's gonna be dangerous so I'll understand if you'd rather not." I said.

The men glanced at each other, considering my words. Colin spoke first. "I wouldn't mind. Sir Stefan picked us to watch over you on this journey and I'm certain he wouldn't mind assigning us as retainers for the duration." He said.

Brice nodded. "I'll mention it when we get back."

"Do that," I said. "And tell me what you know about the situation."

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Just what I said," I pointed at him with the stem of my new pipe. "Tell me what you know about the situation. We were summoned, so things must be bad. Tell me everything you know, good, bad, and ugly."

He took another gulp from his mug and wiped his mouth. "Three years ago trappers in Mirador started reporting dark beasts around the Bladbury mountains. Strange creatures never seen before, wolves with legs like spiders, flesh eating rabbits, deer with fangs. The tribes of orcs and goblins in those mountains were relatively civil, they traded with the trappers and kept to themselves. Even the dwarves didn't speak too badly about them, and dwarves hate a goblin more than they hate watered beer."

He chuckled a bit at his own joke, then continued. "But that changed in the spring 1215. Traders and trappers followed their usual routes into the mountains, but none emerged. No one suspected anything until late summer, and by then it was too late. Hordes of Orcs, Goblins, Kobolds, and other foul creatures marched into Mirador, claiming first one city then another in the name of Queen Daedalelia. Men, women, elves, and dwarves were slaughtered in the thousands before the Duke of Mirador could mount an attack. He pushed through, seeking to give relief to the cities on Mourya lake despite the oncoming winter and lost thousands to the beasts and cold before the armies of Daedalelia finished them off."

I held up my mug when the girls swept by and motioned for another round.

"Over the next year, they spread across the land, consuming most of Mirador as they pushed from the mountains. The dark army has slowly spread west into Extedburia and further east, pushing back Cerisian territories on the north shore of the channel, and eating into the Diocese of Henland." Brice said, sketching an imaginary map on the table with a thick finger. "We held them at Betfodford until a month ago. Goblins and kobolds rode in from the forests on huge wolves, wargs, and other foul beasts and engaged us on the northern front, while ships of Orcs landed to the south and encircled our army. They slaughtered us and took the city."

"Has Cerise combined forces with Extedburia and Henland?" I asked. "Or is it every man for himself here?"

Colin leaned close, speaking in an overloud whisper, "People are flocking to the banner of the Dark Queen."

"What?" I said, not sure I heard him over the minstrel.

Brice nodded his head and spoke in a low voice, "That's the rumour. A cult of Daedalelia is spreading. Worshippers are given strange powers and become fanatical in their devotion. I've even heard the campaign failed at Betfodford because cultists had infiltrated the ranks."

I looked at Simon.

"I've heard similar things too, and I don't follow politics." He said. "It could just be sour grapes over the defeat, maybe some spin to motivate people to join the reserves before mandatory conscription."

That was a good point for someone who doesn't follow politics, I thought. The boy has a sharp mind.

I sat back and let the news settle in my mind while the others kept council with their own thoughts. My mug had somehow nearly emptied itself again so I held it up to the serving girl to catch her attention. Gulping down the rest of the bitter liquid, I poured the dregs on the table and sketched out a spellform for a cantrip.

"Omuth the clever, thee who dwells in dappl'd forests, cometh surveil thy domain. Appear before me: Smoke dragon!"

The spilled beer evaporated in cerulean sparkles. The smoke above overhead condensed into a miniature dragon, no more than a handspan across. Arching its neck, it spit a smoke-ring at me and flew off towards the clapping patrons. I watched it flap through the blue haze, diving and darting with surprising speed when someone tried to swat it from the air. The minstrel switched songs, changing to a a tale of a mighty dragon who devoured every hero that sought to slay it. The tiny dragon soared over the minstrel's head and flew in lazy circles around the lady at his side, snorting smoke-rings at the crowd.

Another beer appeared before me and I sat back in the booth, watching the antics of my creation as it soaked up cheers and applause to the crowd.

A happy smile crept across my face at the sight. I was actually summoned into another world. A world of magic and fairy creatures, where elves and dwarves existed, and kings ruled fantasy kingdoms. I had waited all my life for this, spent my teenage years waiting to be summoned, anticipating the moment when it would fall on my shoulders to save the world, rescue the princess, slay the demon king. I dreamed of armour and swords, earth-shattering magics at my command that would scatter the armies of darkness. I had waited so long. So very, very, long.

I waited and I hoped and I prayed right until the very bitter end. My 20th birthday was spent in my dorm room, staring uselessly at the ceiling.

So my life became a search for the reason why. Why didn't the strange magics reach across the worlds and summon me? Why was I different? What...what was so wrong with me? Undesired. Unwanted. Unworthy.

I puffed on my pipe, old spectres rising from my memories as Simon and Colin chatted about something.

I had met Tanya during that black year. She was cheerful, funny, and incredibly bright, everything I needed in my life at that moment. And as the weeks turned into months, we became lovers, and then friends, and then companions.

We graduated and moved in together the summer we turned 21. She took a job in Adolescent Aftercare, tending and mending those children who came back with mental and sometimes physical scars from their adventures. Healing their damaged psyches and helping them to readjust to a world without magic or things that would eat you in the middle of the night.

I remained in college, chasing after my demons, attaining a Masters and then an adjunct teaching position while pursuing a PhD. and hoping for tenure. I was thirty when Tracy was born. She was six when her mother was killed by a drunk driver.

Another drink had appeared in my hands while I was ruminating, this one served by the minstrel's companion.

"You made this wee dragon?" she asked, referring to the smoky beast perched on her finger. It puffed a smoke ring at me.

"Guilty as charged." I smiled. I'm not sure if it was the alcohol or the lighting, but she was on the right side of pretty. Chesnut brown hair that fell to her shoulders in lazy curls, and eyes to match. Her lips were full and pouty, and suddenly I was filled with a desire to hear her laugh, to see her smile.

I twitched a mental command and the dragon launched itself from her finger to soar and land on mine.

"The spell only lasts about 20 minutes," I said, regarding it with a critical eye. "The poor thing wasn't gifted with much stamina I'm afraid."

"I'm certain his master is more endowed in that area." She said, giving me a smile and a slow wink.

"Would you like to squeeze in and talk about my dragon, or would you prefer somewhere a bit quieter?" I flirted, the alcohol filling me with bravery and confidence.

"I believe I'll join you for a drink first," she said, running an idle finger along the shaft of my glaive that stood at rigid attention next to her.

I didn't even have to nudge Colin. That wonderful man practically leapt from the booth, allowing her to slide in close, filling my nose with the scent of strawberries.

Two drinks later and I was back in my suite at the embassy. With company.

*****

Author's Note: none

Completion date: 24NOV2019

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