22

Into Versia

‘You could have negotiated a little better.’

‘We’re not dead, so I think I negotiated great. And we’re getting paid! Sethel! Tell her how much we’re getting.’

‘Seventy-eight marks in total,’ Sethel said, using his staff as a walking stick. ‘Against the broken church spire, the damage the bridge sustained, the injured guards, and the wonderful renovation made to the alchemy lab, that nets us a profit of exactly zero.’

‘Not many marks for a broken bridge,’ Kathiya said.

‘Asterport builders' are notoriously cheap. So is anything they build. They make most of their money from fight clubs.’

Ludgar still hated walking, but among the gentle warmth of the East Versian sun, he hated it slightly less. Still no traulls. That would probably be asking for too much.

The sun was high, the grass was green, and the first time they set foot in Versia, they immediately got a job. It didn’t matter that they were simply doing it to cover the costs. A job is a job, and one leads to many more.

Distant hilltop villages above the undulating landscape of well-maintained farms, drizzled with old archaeological treasures. It’s no wonder League territory is known for its beauty.

Sethel had a wondrous time digging through the multitudinous variety of flowers lining the dirt path.

‘Virmout, necta, sirria leaf. How wonderful. These would make an excellent sleeping agent.’

Their path wound through the sleepy valley, the cool breeze brushing through fields of flowers that gently waved and rippled in its calming dance.

They walked the dusty trail through deep valleys and winding rivers, past long abandoned forts decaying with age, over golden fields of wheat and barley.

Windriders eased through the amber sunlight as they eased their way towards the distant horizon.

Kessels and vyssers whistled and sang and fluttered their way through the fields, feasting on the unsuspecting insects below.

Fat and healthy glukkers wandered idly, pecking at every interesting thing that they came across, hoping it was food. Ves’sa caught a nice, plump, unsuspecting one. It would make for a good meal later. Four fat, useless wings. It’s like they were made to be eaten.

They happened upon an old chapel perched on the crest of a hill, keeping watch of the land below.

‘That looks to be a good spot,’ said Ludgar. ‘Good view of the land, and it has a roof. What more could we need?’

‘So, what’s the deal with this place?’ Caspar asked, kicking along a disused metal pot.

‘A church of the Lumarians. They say an angel descended long ago and gave the animals of the world a choice: accept the gift and ascend, or don’t.’ Sethel lowered himself into one of the pews and began rummaging around his satchel.

‘I know that. We all learnt it at school. But why was it abandoned?’

‘My best assumption: the encroaching influence of Phaos. They probably scour the land in search of heretics, and “encourage” them to leave. And this little chapel is just another casualty.’

‘The weak at the mercy of the strong. The way it’s always been.’ Ludgar kicked at one of the pews and it easily fell apart. It wasn’t a ravaged place. Just mistreated by long disuse. A layer of dust coated the surfaces, but what was left was mostly intact. The great spectrum of stained-glass work above the altar looked a particularly inviting target for wayward stones by the long gone vandals. Whoever forced them out didn’t much care for the symbolic nature of coloured glass. They only cared that the people were gone. It was a good location. Great views of the surrounding land. ‘Once the sun begins to set, let’s get a fire going.’

‘Is that really such a good idea?’ Kathiya asked. ‘If the Theocracy is making patrols-‘

‘Then they’ll find us and make our job so much easier.’ He understood her concern. Most thieves never think that getting caught is part of the plan. Everything they do aims to avoid detection, not actively seek it. ‘Ves’sa!’ She descended from the rafters, her elegant wings blasting dust throughout the hall. ‘Take first watch. Don’t knock down any more spires.’

She nodded and ascended without any words.

No spire fell, but a few roof tiles did instead. A fair compromise, Ludgar thought.

‘Now what?’ Kathiya idly sifted through the contents of the central altar. Everything of value was taken. Not even a single candlestick left.

‘We watch and wait.’

‘Now, focus.’

Caspar closed his eyes and held out his hand. His breathing slowed. He focused.

The pebbles moved. Not even by much.

Caspar wasn’t fully sure what it meant, but Sethel was ecstatic. He bounded around the room, throwing his hands in the air, claiming something about the gift of magic and his skill of being such a great teacher.

‘Because that is true magic! It is our focus! Our unconscious effort! Our desire to shape the world around us, to bend it to our desires. It is our will! Magic is our gift from the greater beings who made and shaped the world! To use magic is to touch the divine!’

‘Nice speech,’ Kathiya added. ‘You should consider being a Phaosian Priest.’

‘Considered it! Phaos never responded to my letters!’ He continued his lecture despite nobody asking him to. ‘You see, all destructive magics are relatively quite new compared to the healing magics, or defensive, or augmentative. Most spells created for war and combat are simply altered ordinary spells. The first flame spells were never made to burn, but to warm. Ice was made to cool and preserve.’

‘And lightning?’

‘…’ He pondered. ‘To make fantastic light shows! Now!’ He thrust his staff next to Ludgar’s head. ‘Show me what you can do.’

Ludgar found a few loose pebbles by his hand, and decided ‘why not?’

Kathiya scooted next to him and intently watched the stones below his hand. ‘Actually, yeah. I’m interested in this too.’

Ludgar tried. He closed his eyes. Held out his hand. Slowed his breathing. Tried to find that feeling.

It wasn’t there.

Whatever it was people should be feeling, it just wasn’t there.

Instead of that uplifting, ethereal, lifting feeling, it felt kind of like a pulling. Like gravity just got that little bit heavier. Something deep and dark and far below calling to him. Wanting him to come.

He shook it off and started searching for that uplifting feeling.

He opened his eyes.

Nothing. Not a jitter, a shudder, a vibration, a tremor, or even a tremble. They were stiller than anything had ever been still. He thought he saw something for a moment there, but it was just the shadow from the flicker of flame.

‘Well, that’s disappointing.’ Kathiya slumped back, resting her feet on an upturned bucket.

Sethel pondered and scribbled in a notebook.

No matter. He never had magic before. What difference would it make if he had it now? He didn’t need it. A strong arm and a sharp blade can kill all the same.

He stood. Some air would do him good.

He ascended the spiral stairs into the bell tower, and he climbed through the arches onto the rooftop.

He sat by Ves’sa, still staring as intently as when she started into the countryside below. They offered to relieve her, let her get some rest, but she refused. She was just one of those people who always had to be doing something. For her, time off must just be wasted time.

He couldn’t see far into the darkness, but he knew she could. Those falcon eyes are almost magic by themselves. It’s like they simply see things that no one else can. How far can that vision go?

Something had caught her eye. He could see it in the way her brow furrowed.

‘What do you see?’

‘Fire.’

‘Someone making a camp or…?’

‘No. Too big. A farmhouse.’

‘An accident?’

‘No. “Duty.”’

Ludgar stood and made his way to the old church bell. ‘Guess it’s time for work then.’