It was a dark day, that only kept darkening, with grey clouds and an ever closing evening. A light drizzle was present in Cenharb, splotching the city in shadowy wet shades. The majority of people were using umbrellas, except for a scarce amount of mages who used some of water protection.
Barandir was sitting inside the zeppelin's dining combi-bar room with Lonkar. They were finishing up their dinner and drinking a wonderful, to Barandir, new drink, that he had never known of called whiskey. It burned slightly, and carried hints of oak and smokey wood, it had accompanied the braised meat that he had just finished.
Aside from the people, culture and architecture being different, the food and smells had been a big change for him too, food generally was just better and more well prepared, the smells were also less, it seemed to be much more common to shower and keep clean.
While leaning back in his chair, and watching the rain colliding slightly with the small window, he swivelled his whiskey lightly, his mind relaxing. A lot had happened, in a very short period, his many years in the forest felt very distant after all of the new impressions that he had had to adapt to. Glancing at the uncle who was silently smoking while looking out of the window as well, he couldn't quite help but wonder what his future held, although he had accepted that he wouldn't be able to be a warrior any longer, it was a hard truth to come to terms with! He took a sip of the whiskey, he closed his eyes enjoying the flavours and light burn. When he opened his eyes again he couldn't help but notice that the uncle had a slightly crazed look in his eyes, and was leaning a bit closer to the window than previously. It wasn't the first time, when they had been out in the city earlier the uncle had once in a while looked around restlessly, it was almost as if he was expecting, or hoping, to run into someone.
"What haunts you uncle?" Barandir asked as he sat up straight, calmly placing the whiskey glass on the table.
Lonkar shook slightly at the unexpected question, his eyes losing their sharpness for a moment, making the man appear listless, finally he sighed heavily "I didn't think that you'd notice, nephew" his voice was dispirited, but he continued in a low voice, making Barandir unsure of if he was speaking with him, or to himself "you are very correct in your observation, Cenharb, despite all of its wonder, haunts me to this day, for it is here that I lost someone" his voice choked up slightly when he finished his sentence.
A picture flashed in front of Barandir's eyes, of a young boy hearing the sobbing sounds of the uncle, of him giving him his favourite teddy, a tragic piece of the puzzle fitted, Barandir decided to give the man some advice "the past is the past uncle! I'm not telling you to forget what happened, but you can't go looking over your shoulders everywhere you go in Cenharb, whoever you lost, they are gone, and I'm sure it would bring them no joy to see you so disparate!" his voice was strong and determined.
Lonkar was surprised at his nephew's sudden confident words, yes the nephew was surely correct, she wouldn't be happy if she knew, but she didn't know, and after what happened she never would!.. The uncle was silent for a while, the only sound being a light murmur from the few other people in the dining room and the rain from the outside. "You have given me something to think about, nephew" he slowly got up from his chair "I think I'll retire to my quarters, you should enjoy yourself, maybe go get a drink somewhere, meet a nice lass?" he smiled gently as he pushed his chair back, and walked past Barandir, giving him a light clap on the shoulder as he passed.
Barandir looked after him as he exited the dining room, he was confounded at the uncle's reaction. His words had been rational enough, but the uncle hadn't let him out of his sight since they arrived, and now with one and a half day left he decided to let him mind his own business? Did their brief conversation really strike such a cord with the man? Regardless he wouldn't say no to taking a small walk by himself, even if it was raining; it was also the polite choice, as the uncle really did seem like he need some time alone.
Whilst sitting with his glass of whiskey, he had conversed with the server who had come to clean up the table, he had asked the man about nearby places that might be worth strolling by, either for drink or curiosity. The man who was a young lad, with honest eyes, had told him what little he knew of the nearby area and the local drinking spots that he and the zeppeliner crew would sometimes visit. He of course told him in a low voice about a discreetly operated illegal brothel too.
Eventually he finished his whiskey and got on his feet, he had had a decent amount of alcohol, but the Hibernating Bear's breath helped keep his head more or less clear. He grabbed his cane and coat on the way out. The cane was new, in fact he had almost fully recovered at this point, but the cane functioned as a good make-shift weapon, and it seemed that a lot of people were using a cane for fashionable purposes, so he had asked Lonkar if he could get a stronger and sturdier one. Lonkar hadn't been against the idea, the man had thought that his nephew was still adapting, and that he felt insecure without some means of protection.
On their second day in Cenharb the uncle had bought him a sturdy and heavyset cane, the handle was made of flint steel, which made it very malleable by magic. Originally Barandir had opposed this, what difference would it make to him? And the price was significantly larger than had it been regular steel or black steel, at this Lonkar had chuckled in amusement. Lonkar had within that same night carved runes into the cane and a small diagram which displayed a spear-like shape. When activated the shape of the cane would thin out and the handle would turn into a spear-head. The uncle had said that the rune allowed the mass of the cane to be altered, and that the diagram changed the alteration pattern. Apparently the wood and metal had to have some unity in order for this to work, and the uncle had gibbered on a bit about the theories, to which most of it had been nonsense to Barandir. The uncle had told him that he could indeed activate the cane, even though he couldn't feel the mana particles, the transformation was minimal and required simply holding the cane and chanting the keyword, then it would withdraw the mana from the user automatically. Barandir had attempted this at their quarters, and it had worked, the spear wasn't perfect of course, the craftsmanship of the metal especially was much less than had it been done by a smith, but it was, by and far, many times better than anything than he had had in the forest.
The cooling sensation of the water was very satisfying to Barandir as he descended the zeppelin ramp. The cobbled streets were far emptier, now that it was raining and it was late in the evening. He had already seen a large amount of the upper class districts, so he thought it'd be interesting to take an evening walk in the more common areas, and based on the server's advice he quickly found the road that led in the right direction.
Without an umbrella he was slowly getting more drenched though, and when he heard the first thunderclap he knew he needed to find some cover. Looking around he saw the same type of old and worn buildings in the same style as he had seen in Oakville, although these appeared to be a few storeys taller and more outfitted for city living, with wooden balconies. As the rain intensified he finally heard the sound of music and merriment.
. . . . .
Inside The Brick Wall pub, the music was loud and the people were spirited, singing and dancing was happening all around as the alcohol flowed from the tap to the throat. A young man, with grey hair, was playing a game of dice in one corner of the pub, although seemingly a random seating, he was sitting in the corner, with no one behind him, and a clear view of the entrance. He had already lost a few games to an older noble man with a big bushy beard and a shiny bald head. He suspected that the man had been cheating, but maybe not, the amounts weren't anything too large, so it didn't bother him much.
Thunder rumbled outside and rain blew in from the entrance as the door opened to the pub and a wet and weary looking young man entered, he ran his hand through his raven black hair upon entering the pub, instantly removing the worst amount of water that had gathered there. His eyes were purple, a sign of a magician, the youth playing dice noticed the man, and he also recognized him as the man who had given his sister and him the death-stare a couple of days ago. He was half observing him while playing dice, the purple eyed man had not taken more than a couple of steps into the pub when a chubby fellow came stumbling towards him, aggressively and drunkenly, his face flushed and his finger pointed. Whatever he said, was muffled from the ambience of the pub.
Just after the man had begun pointing his finger at the youth, the view was blocked, disallowing the grey haired young man from seeing the outcome. In its stead was a woman in her mid thirties wearing green pants and collarless red shirt,, he recognised her instantly as a woman whom he had had a minor 'altercation' with during his stay, he opened his mouth to talk, but he was met with a ringing slap before he could talk, much to the amusement of everyone there.
"That's what you deserve!" she huffed as she stormed out.
"Didn't say that I didn't" he mumbled with a grin, holding his red cheek, warriors certainly could hit hard, he thought, as his cheek stung.
. . . . .
The Brick Wall -
The sign wrote when Barandir got close enough to read it, the large wooden door was a shallow and weathered green, built into one of the brick buildings, a lantern on each side provided an extra amount of lighting to the front. Light and shadows could be seen from the large windows which were mounted in the building.
Upon entering he saw a lively scene, everybody seemed to be in an awfully good mood, a band of what appeared to be a dwarf, a gnome and human were playing and singing some song, which several of the patrons sang along with. The pub itself was not too different from the taverns that he was used too, although the brick and the more modern looking bar certainly were quite different. He had barely entered and taken in the view when a short chubby young man approached him. The man's face was red as a tomato, and he was already yelling curses at Barandir, he recognised the man from the Runic Researchers Society, he had been the young man who had given him and his uncle a hard stare as he exited.
"...and I don't care who you and your companion are! But to embarrass me, and make me look bad in front of Bennings! I don't even care that much about runes darnit!" he complained angrily his finger waving dangerously in front of Barandir who was watching in silent amusement.
There wasn't a need to make an enemy of the man, he thought casually, as he interrupted the guy's rant "I'll buy you some ale, and you can tell me exactly what happened, I'm not rune guy myself either" he smiled and continued past the dumbfounded chubby, towards the bar.
A while later, the two were calmly chatting while the ale was flowing freely, the small table already had several empty glasses. The music was still playing, but this time it was a calmer and quieter song. It turned out that the chubby young man was named Sam Goodboar, and was a local noble and merchant's son, he was also from a family of mages who specialized in transformations and construction. His interest in runes was shallow at best, and by recommendation from a random mage at mage's pub, he had read the book from Derren Harrington and decided that that would be his 'in' with Bennings.
"So if I got this right, your family is one of the branches of the larger Goodboar family, and having good relations with rune masters is important when you're trying to attain a contract for magical buildings and maintenance?" Barandir asked, his voice slightly slurred from the amount of alcohol that he had consumed.
Sam nodded heavily, his almond hair drooping in front of his glasses "There is a new contract being circled amongst the contractors currently, some noble wants to build something magical, and nobody knows what it is, but the reward is high so we're competing, in order to win the contract" he drunkenly straightened up in the chair, and pushed his hair back clumsily "if I could help us gain that contract, I could increase my standing in the family greatly" he finished proudly.
'Pride huh' Barandir thought lazily, pride had led the man somewhat astray, and further led him to make hastened decisions, it wasn't the first time that Barandir had seen pride have this effect. This didn't mean that he himself was immune to this specific vice, everyone was, it was just a matter of when one realised that ones actions were controlled by this powerful emotion. He had explained to Sam that he wasn't a rune mage, still, trying to help the man wouldn't hurt him any "I can ask my uncle if he can put in a good word to Mr. Bennings for you, but there aren't any guarantees here!" he spoke resolutely with a warm smile.
Sam almost choked up, and nodded aggressively, he even attempted to stand up while mumbling "next dozen are on me", but he quickly fell back into his seat.
Barandir laughed lightly "hand me a few coins and I'll get us some more"
"My new friend! Here, here" he handed him several pieces of copper and silver coins with differing motifs "hurry back!" he laughed as he tried to empty the already empty glass.
With a light stumble, Barandir made it to the bar, the elderly bartender quickly took the order and promised that the waitress would be coming along with the tray anytime now.
Just as he was leaving the bar he locked eyes with another patron who was approaching, the man had grey hair and pale blue eyes, he recognised him from the zeppelin.
"Ah!" he exclaimed at the recognition, the man muttering a similar exclamation. The two instantly laughed at the coincidence.
. . . . .
A couple of hours later, three very drunk men were walking down the dark roads of Cenharb, holding each other's shoulders and singing random songs with slurry lyrics and quite terrible vocals. They had somehow gotten along very well, and they all had needed to went their frustrations about one thing or the other, and there wasn't anything but complaining in unison that could unite people.
They were on their way to the harbour area, Sam had insisted that the two visitors came along and saw the rising sun, and although it wasn't raining any more, it was still cloudy, which made it unlikely that they would see anything at all. Not that that seemed to bother them. The rain was nothing more than a fine drizzle hazing up the dark and quiet city.
At some point after they exited an alleyway Sam finally looked around "I think we're lost?!" a hint of sobriety having crept up into his voice. He knew that they must be close to the harbour area, but he certainly didn't recognize the buildings, the darkness didn't help of course. The surrounding walls looked quite worn, and there were several homeless people lying around, it was obviously a poorer part of town.
Fremont, the grey haired warrior didn't waste much time and squatted down next to a random homeless man, they talked briefly and he handed him an octagon shaped copper coin. Soon the trio was on their merry way.
It didn't take long for them to reach the docks, however as Sam pointed out this was not the docks that he was used to, the large brick and wooden warehouses were decrepit, old and empty, he reckoned that this was an area of the docks that had been left to rot with time as new docks and renovations had taken place over the years. The three men were far more sober now, and walking somewhat carefully, the place was giving every one of them a bad feeling. There were large areas of almost complete darkness in between the few lighted lanterns or left-over lighting crystals, that were still in place.
All of a sudden Fremont turned his head with a scowl in the direction of a smaller brick warehouse shrouded in darkness. "I heard a woman scream!" he spoke slowly, whilst moving his hand to his rapier "I must go" he knew that of his two companions he was the only one who was battle-worn. Although Barandir gave him the feeling of an experienced warrior, it was clear that he didn't have natural energy, nor that he was some sort of battlemage, and Sam was a naïve and friendly guy, but hardly good for a scrap. Without waiting for them to respond, he disappeared quickly and silently into the shadow of the building.
Sam looked slightly panicked "I, I didn't hear anything" he voiced with angst in his timbre.
"Warriors like Fremont will have much better hearing than you and I, especially with his strength, if he said he heard something he did, regardless of him being injured and drunk" without hesitating Barandir also ran towards the building. Leaving Sam utterly alone.
Men were strange in the way that they could create strong bonds in short periods, as if instinctively a part of the person trusted the other, they didn't need years to know how to be loyal to the other party. This was the feeling that Sam had now, he was not a brave man, and he had never seen battle aside from practice, but he felt a strong bond with the two men who had been nothing but strangers to him no more than a couple of hours earlier.
The rain had stopped, yet he was still wet on his forehead, the perspiration was real. He knew that whatever was happening at that warehouse, it wouldn't be anything good. Gulping and with a nervous step, he moved forward slowly.
. . . . .
Camouflaged in the darkness Fremont sneaked along the wall of the warehouse, moving slowly towards a small side-door. Whatever was happening he knew he had to move quickly, the woman had been silenced instantly, the chances of her being alive were not good, but he also knew that he was injured and that whatever was happening in the warehouse it wouldn't be anything good, best case scenario it was regular folks, worst case scenario was that there would be some rogue magic involved. He thought back to the worshippers that him and his sister had ambushed no more than a couple of hours ago. His hand moved to the handle of the door, it was open.
"Stop" Barandir said, having appeared next to him completely stealthily.
With a thumping heart Fremont looked at his compatriot, when had he appeared? He hadn't heard him or noticed him approaching? How formidable! He was revaluating the young man next to him, was he really some expert mage? If he was, then had he lied, if he had lied, could he trust him? "I have to, now!" he spoke seriously in a low voice, while he was moving to the door.
"Sam is coming along, let's wait for him, he should be able to enter the building from a different location" Barandir held Fremont's shoulder, well knowing that the warrior could easily subdue him.
Shortly afterwards Sam came along, clumsily and with heavy feet, when prompted he complied with Barandir that he could indeed create a doorway in the brick with a magic diagram, it was a relatively simple construction spell, unless the wall had some protection of course.
The plan was simple, Fremont would enter from the entrance, and a couple of meters down from it, the other two would enter, it was bit of a blind luck plan, doing the right thing wasn't always easy, and it could come with dire consequence, but that didn't mean that it was a decision that could be put aside.
. . . . .
A large triangle spell diagram was drawn with blood on the wooden flooring in the warehouse, at each corner lay a body, each a markedly of a different age. One a child, the other a middle aged person, and the last one an old and decrepit man. It was their blood activating and running through the diagram. Of which, in the middle stood several people of varying ages, it was clear that some of them were families, and judging by their clothing they were all poor. Amongst them lay a woman halfway unconscious, she was the woman who had screamed, her name was Stella, she was a young mage undercover from the local government investigating the recent massacre ritual. She was smart, but also reckless, her superiors hadn't signed off on her operation of going undercover, but she had done so anyhow. She had realised that perhaps the ritual was related to age, and from the previous incident she noted that all of the victims were poor, this was all very novel really, it was too general. Although her superior agreed with her conclusions, she had also believed that Stella was misguided and misusing her time by going undercover in the seedy underbelly of Cenharb, as it could take months if not forever before she stumbled onto something.
Unfortunately for Stella she had come across the perpetrator, more by accident than anything else, she had befriended the neighbouring family, they were poor and the wife had just passed away, she had been the bread-winner for the family working as a seamstress assistant. The father on the other hand was always gambling, and when the wife had died he had in a drunken stupor sold his children. When he had returned crying to his home, and Stella had learnt of his inhuman actions, she had threatened him until he revealed where he had taken them.
She had assumed that it was just a couple of normal human-traffickers, their strength shouldn't be anything she couldn't handle, at worst she could reveal her identity as a woman of the country and kingdom. Things however had not turned out the way she had assumed, the moment she had entered the warehouse she had felt it, the vile magic! It was oppressing and wild, as she had tried to escape she had been stopped by a spell, the next thing she knew she was waking up drowsily inside the spell diagram, everyone else stood there spell-bound. It was clear that the diagram pacified regular humans.
The warehouse was damp from the rain, and darkness loomed, only a few lanterns and candles lit up the empty space, the blood glowing slightly as well. As she was regaining her senses she desperately attempted to survey the area, if she was to survive this ordeal she would have to act quickly, whatever effects the diagram had, it wasn't anything good. She saw three hooded figures at each line of the diagram, and one a bit further removed sitting cross-legged with a small black crystal hovering in-between his or hers hands, the person was sitting in a circular spell-diagram, this one however was not marked by blood, but was drawn on with some type of chalk. This diagram had not been present at the previous crime scene, perhaps it had been wiped away? Aside from the hooded figures she also saw two men, one at the large exit towards the docks, and another by the side of the hooded figure in circular diagram. They carried weapons and were obviously warriors, however from their drooping flesh it was clear that they were undead, vile magic indeed.
She wasn't entirely sure how or if she could survive, if, and that was a big if, as she was still young and weak, but if she could break out of the diagram, then what were her odds of escaping? Sweat ran rampant as she knew that this was probably her final day, but she would give it her best to escape, or at least go down with one of the mages. She tied up her charcoal long hair, and steadied her feet.
Just as she was about to make her move, she saw the small door open silently, a man entered in the shadow of the warehouse, the undead warriors, and the mages didn't seem to have noticed. Is what she thought, when the warrior turned around suddenly, and moved in the direction of the warrior. This was her chance, she exploded with every last ounce of power that she had. Traditional battle-magic was simple, and in many ways easy to learn, and easy to counter, it was perfect for novices and poor people of little talent. She pushed aside the spell-bound folks, and unleashed a large condensed ball of fire at one of the cloaked figures along the triangle.
. . . . .
He had certainly succeeded in distracting their adversaries, Fremont thought with an annoyed inner tone. The undead warrior had attacked before they even had a chance to alarm one another with one of their improvised signals. The moment he unleashed his Rapid Stream Piercing strike, he saw bright light come from the diagram. Whatever was happening, he knew he had to act quickly. The undead warrior was not weak, but it was clumsy, and suffered instantly, a large hole blown open in its chest.
Fremont took the brief break in battle to look towards the bright light, the spell-diagram was breaking like a glass cage, it appeared that a fireball was droning into one of the sides of it, slowly cracking it. However the surrounding hooded figures did not seem concerned, they were confident in staving off the attempt at freedom.
The undead warrior had quickly risen and was attacking with renewed vigour. Its claymore swung fast and precise. Well-knowing that using natural energy in his condition was dangerous, he still decided to do it! Using his movement technique he dodged to the side instantly, and with flash of white light his rapier moved both slowly and quickly as it drew a stream of almost invisible energy chopping the undead warrior in half.
. . . . .
Barandir and Sam moved stealthily while all of the events were unfolding. The situation was definitely dire, the power of the mages was completely unknown. Sam was shaking nervously, but when he saw the children standing in the spell diagram he steadied himself, determination appearing in his previously panicky eyes. In the face of fear and inexperience, the man had made up his mind to do what he thought was right, Barandir could respect that.
"I will transform!" he exclaimed, his voice quaking in fear, his hand forming strange symbols, magic beginning to emanate from him.
"Wait, wait! what transformations do you have?" this was not the time to make a reckless decision, although they had very little time to decided on matters.
Sam stopped in his tracks "Of offensive transformations, I have the Iron-hoofed Boar, the Night-Bear of Cyndar and the Sand Eagle, the most powerful being the bear"
Barandir pushed Sam back hard! Out of nowhere the other warrior appeared his gleaming war-axe chopping down at the spot where the man had just stood. "Choose the eagle!" Barandir yelled out, not trying to hide their already exposed position any-longer. His cane transformed into a thin long spear, that cut at the undead warrior from a strange angle.
Sam rose quickly, his hands beginning to move in strange symbols, and at key-points he chanted strange mystic words. He wasn't sure why he should chose the eagle, but he trusted Barandir, the man had seemed calm and collected during the entire situation, as if what unfolded was nothing too abnormal. One thing was clear, the mages were distracted, otherwise they would never allow them to move around so freely without attacking them. While he was initiating his transformation he saw Barandir move in strange ways while cutting and stabbing at the undead warrior. It was obvious that the warrior was superior in speed and strength, yet it kept being a couple of steps behind. With a dodge, and a roll, Barandir somehow made the undead warrior stumble towards the diagram, he was meters away from one of the mages, the man had used his incredible skill to move their battle to the mages.
With a crackle Sam's body transformed into a large Eagle composed of sand, it stood at one meter and fifty, its wings spread apart giving it a wingspan of four meters, and with a mighty whoosh he took off. He heard Barandir yell "distract every mage!" even though they hadn't had time to come up with codes for these types of situations, and even though everyone could hear it, it became clear that if they could break the spell-diagram the mages plans would fail, and they'd get an additional ally.
From above Sam could see the undead warrior attacking, he also saw that Fremont was engaged in battle with another warrior, this one not undead, and also hooded like the mages, it was using external energy attacks, something that undead warriors weren't capable off. He realised that had he turned into a boar or a bear, he would have been an easy target, both for the mages and the warriors, although their chances of getting one mage would have increased, there was no guarantee that that would stop the spell, Barandir had considered him, and judged the most optimal shape that could keep him safe, and also distract the mages, which was all he really needed to do.
. . . . .
At the appearance of the other warrior, she had almost collapsed in despair, her magic was running low, and their chances of surviving were radically smaller as this new warrior was far more competent. However out of nowhere from behind her she heard a man's voice yelling "choose the eagle" she could hear the sounds of battle from behind her, it wasn't over yet, so she persevered, and shortly afterwards she saw a large shadow from above swooping down onto the mage! Was this it? The mage lifted his gloved hand activating a shadowy barrier, blocking the attack, and then the eagle was gone. Attacking another mage, who barely blocked the attack. As the eagle was randomly attacking, the mages began getting nervous, she even saw them activating their barriers when it wasn't attacking!
All of a sudden she heard an inhuman sound of pain, and the barrier broke, her ball of fire now smaller, but still powerful collapsed into the mage in front of her, making him unleash a similar inhuman sound, as he fell backwards, the hood falling off his head. It was an absolutely disgusting visage of rot and puss. One thought, that she had been repressing since she saw the undead warriors, now rang loudly in her mind 'master necromancer!', undead sorcerers appeared to be the identity of the three mages surrounding the spell digram. She steadied her mind, and readied herself for another spell, as the undead sorcerer slowly regained his footing despite the fire still burning him.
However like a lighting striking, a man had appeared from beside her, she hadn't seen him until he struck, but there he was. His spear whipped the hand off of the undead, and with a twist and a turn, them man swiped the legs out under the mage, and before he hit the ground he penetrated the foe's skull right between its eyebrows. The final attack had destroyed the undead's core-spirit, rendering it dead for good, it collapsed into melting flesh. Stella was stunned at the sudden turn of events, the three allies had appeared out of nowhere, and before she knew it, they had a fighting chance!
"GET THEM OUT OF THERE!" The man yelled aggressively as he charged towards another of the undead mages, it appeared that the one behind her had met its fate as well. Stella quickly began pushing the spell-bound, they were seemingly still affected.
. . . . .
Using pure martial skill, he had thrown the undead warrior at the hooded mage, the hooded mage must've thought it was Sam, and had actually unleashed an attack, which had completely rendered the undead warrior useless. Whether the poor soul had finally met true death, or if it was only temporary, he didn't know, but he had struck instantly, whipping his spear onto the hooded figure, breaking the bones beneath. When he had seen the undead sorcerer, he had reacted instinctively, undead enemies always had their core-spirit in their head, his spear moved mysteriously as it had killed the undead.
Not long after he had ended another. He saw that Sam had flown to assist Fremont. Barandir was sure that Fremont would have been capable of besting the warrior had he not been injured. Regardless he didn't have time to contemplate such matters. With a roll he dodged a dark ethereal chain that flew out of the sleeves of the last mage standing by the diagram, while he was dodging he released his spear in the blind spot of the chain, their distance was not big, and mages, unlike warrior had weak bodies, and it was clear that the power of these undead mages wasn't particularly great. The undead fell into a pile of flesh as the spear penetrated its skull.
. . . . .
Fremont was struggling against his foe, but he was happy to see that Barandir and Sam had succeeded. He smirked as he continued fighting the man, whom he knew he was the better of. Unfortunately he was just that step too slow with his injuries, and the opponent was geared towards defence with a shield and a bastard sword.
A gust of sand blew onto the opposing warrior, making him stop in his tracks. The hooded figure looked up at Sam, then he jumped over to the cross-legged mage. The shield that he was holding glowed a bright blue, making several illusory shields appear around the two. Fremont frowned, that looked a lot like Religious warrior arts.
Fremont saw that Barandir was standing still, guarding the human mage who was pushing the spell-bound people out of the diagram. Meanwhile Sam landed next to Fremont. Nobody moved, except the mage who was being guarded, the mage rose slowly and began clapping.
"Great! Really, absolutely astoundingly great!" an oppressive feeling spread out as a female raspy voice rang out in the warehouse "I'll end you all, do you understand?" she asked in a matter of fact way. Fremont gulped slightly, she was obviously the leader, and she was not pleased, nor did she seem concerned with the people who had interrupted her.
It was then that he felt it, DANGER! Fremont's entire body shook as he felt the clear instinctual warning signs, it was brought about from a strong and uncontrolled bloodlust and will to battle, it was only warriors who were war veterans who had such strong blood lust, but now he felt it from the least likely of all, Barandir! When he had first seen him he had felt a strong killing intent from the man, but that was much different from blood lust.
Again, the thought occurred to him, was he hiding his true strength? Was he one of those old beasts who could hide his true strength? It seemed that he wasn't the only one with that thought, as he saw the female mage falter, and the warrior by her side also reacted with a light tremble. The hooded figure observed Barandir for a while, before she placed her hand on the warrior's shoulder, and then they were covered in dark shadows, disappearing before their very eyes.
. . . . .
Hours later around midday, the sun could be seen peeking from behind grey clouds, and the three young men sat in the main city security district office. They had learnt of Stella's position, and they had been giving their statements to multiple people, of different ranks and offices. They were tired and both Barandir and Fremont had a date with a zeppelin, originally the bureau chief of ritualistic magics had been against it, but when Fremont had revealed that he was from the Hammerfell warrior clan in the continent of Ma'Ra'Gol in the kingdom of Sindaar, that Barandir was of a minor noble clan in the north, and that Sam was of the of Goodboar noble clan of Cenharb; it had forced the chief to wrap up their interrogations, as it was already somewhat clear from their own constable, that they had been instrumental in freeing the citizens.
They had just been told that they were free to go, and that the city of Cenharb and the kingdom of Milland thanked them. Apparently the spell-bound had been send to the a different division, to recover from the after effects of the spell, Stella had led them there, and so they hadn't had a chance to speak with their temporary ally before they left.
"Let's go get some ale!" Fremont exclaimed as they were leaving the building, they reeked of alcohol, sweat and blood, but they were in good spirits. The other two readily agreed.
Half an hour later they sat inside a small, cheap tavern. The clientele was shady at best, but it was the only place that allowed them inside as they all smelled quite bad, and looked quite reckless with scratched clothes and fresh gauges.
They were drinking eagerly while discussing the events that had transpired.
"...I must admit, I was quite sure that we were goners when the mastermind got up" Fremont spoke honestly "but I also had not expected you to have such a strong blood lust" he finally asked the question that he had been meaning to ask, it was absurd for a person who couldn't materialise blood lust to have one that strong, he could only think of army veterans who had bathed in the blood of thousands, but they weren't that easy to find. Most wouldn't survive to gain such a strong natural blood lust.
Barandir looked at the two men, they had had each other's backs despite only knowing one another for a couple of hours, in the face of danger and death they had neither run nor cowered, he trusted them, to some degree at least "Well you see I was trapped in the Southern Magnolia Forest..." he began telling them about his surviving in the forest, excusing his fighting skills and blood lust ability on his experiences there and an old warrior journal that he had with him.
Sam was buying the whole story, but Fremont wasn't entirely convinced, sure one could get certain skills and animal like traits and instincts from survival training, but to that degree? His skill with the spear and his movement skills were quite advanced too! However he understood that although they had bled together, they didn't know each other, maybe some day, he thought with a smile.
After visiting the bar they had gone to a public bath house, that thankfully also had a clothes washing and drying service. The public bath houses that Barandir was used to were large marbled bath houses with a lot of space to the ceilings, but this one was small and crammed, the pools were still made out of marble, but there wasn't any open space. When they left in their clean, although battle-worn clothes, Barandir once more realised just how steeped in magic this world was. To be able to dry clothes in less than an hour, it was a small matter, sure, but it was also inconceivable by any normal standards.
Not long after, Fremont and Barandir said their goodbyes to Sam, he promised he'd come at dawn and say a proper goodbye to them.
. . . . .
It didn't matter that he was an adult, and had lived through much worse, the facts were that right now he was in Lonkar's care, the man would probably be worried, as such Barandir prepared himself to apologize to the man as he entered the cabin with a light knock.
The door creaked as he entered the room slowly, but there were none there. Their beds lay untouched and made, it did not look like anyone slept there at all the previous night. A beam of sunshine shone through the small window, making the small particles of dust look like they were dancing. On the small table by the window lay a folded parchment note, with Barandir's name written on it.
He sat down on the bed and unfolded the note.
"Dear Nephew,
Our conversation this evening reminded me of certain events, of which I find myself drawn to still, I cannot involve you in this, as you are not able yet to assist me in this endeavour, and in all honesty I fear that you would try and stop me.
I digress, our zeppelin leaves tomorrow night at the dawn of the new day, I have packed our passports, travel document and tickets in my travel-chest. There is enough coin there to last you until you reach our home-kingdom and our lands. The reason that I tell you this is because I am not certain if I will be capable of returning before tomorrow, or if I'll be able to return at all."
A couple of ink-droplets were visible on the parchment next, as the hesitation in the writing could be seen.
"It is unfair to you, yes, but there are times, when we need to do things, just because, and that is all the explanation that I will offer you on this matter. If I do return, which I strongly plan to, I imagine that you will have a lot of questions, to this I ask of you not to query, because my matter is a private one, and does not affect the family. As my nephew, and dear friend, there will come a day where I will tell you; of what 'haunts' me in Cenharb, and when that day comes to pass, I can only hope that you do not judge my actions.
Sincerest,
Uncle Lonkar."
Barandir looked up, he saw Lonkar standing in the doorway, looking somewhat dishevelled. A small black leather eyepatch covered his left eye. He had noticed the man entering the room, but had decided to finish reading. He had a lot of questions for the man, he was certainly curious, but the words of the letter strongly resonated with him.
Sighing deeply, he folded the letter and stood up "'let's go get some lunch" he smiled to the uncle as he picked up his cane, which now had several scratches to it
For a moment Lonkar wished to ask about the cane, but the nephew hadn't brought it up, he also noticed that the nephew's clothing was scratched and worn, but who was he to demand answers, when he wasn't willing to give any himself, the boy was alive, that was what mattered "Sure nephew, but afterwards I'm taking a nap, a really long one, in fact I think I could sleep for a couple of days" he laughed lightly.
"You're not the only one uncle, not the only one"
. . . . .
Walking through twisted tunnels and displacement portals, finally led Stella to her destination. It was ruins that lay covered deep underneath the city, and in those ruins was a small room, its protections formidable, and within, sealed by magic chains, diagrams and runes, sat her mentor and master.
"What news do you bring me acolyte Stella?" the shadowy chained figure asked lazily.
Every time that she faced her master, she felt fear and admiration, she was never capable of looking straight at his form, so she looked at the complicated spell-diagram instead, watching the squiggly lines and unknown writings "I made contact with the person behind the recent slew of ritualistic murders, three things can be concluded from this" her voice faltered somewhat, she always got uncomfortable when she was speaking with the man "For one, and I believe that this is most important of all, I am almost certain that the mastermind is a master necromancer!" she paused as her sentence sank in.
The shadowy figure didn't seem to be affected, but he also didn't respond for a while, eventually he spoke again "continue"
"The other is that he is working with a warrior who is practising religious warrior arts, to which deity this warrior prays, I do not know, and finally it would appear that the rituals were meant to power a black gem or crystal...what exactly it was I can't say".
"This is certainly intriguing news" the voice no longer sounding lazy, but somewhat excited "tell me how you came about these details"
Stella breathed inwards and explained the details of her previous night's worth of adventure and danger.
An eerie laughter escaped the shadowy figure, she trembled and collapsed to her knees as blood flowed from her eyes, what power her master held, even after being contained and restricted his laughter alone could still affect her as such, her eyes fervent. The shadowy figure spoke once more "There are actually a couple of more details here to note!" the figure spoke with barely containable amusement "For one it had been hours since the children of your neighbour had been taken, and ritual hadn't finished, this implies that the ritual was a very long one, which means that either the caster wasn't skilled enough, which if it was a master necromancer shouldn't be the case, or that the details of the ritual contain more mysteries than we are aware of! Secondly this Barandir has more secrets than you realise, he thought and defeated undead warriors and undead sorcerers with purely physical skill while not being a warrior, I imagine this is the biggest surprise to you?" Stella nodded at the figure's words "but in fact the biggest enigma that he holds is his bloodlust! Mages don't know, they don't realise how difficult true bloodlust is to accumulate, I imagine that this warrior Fremont was quite shocked, and perchance the necromancer's follower too, it was a bluff of course, your theory of Barandir being secretly powerful seems highly unlikely" the figure breathed a shadowy breath that penetrated Stella's eyes, making them glow slightly with strange symbols "this is your reward for amusing me, and bringing me news, go now" he finished somewhat impatiently.
Stella bowed deeply, her rewards had been more than she could've imagined! Being a worshipper wasn't so bad after all, she thought, as the new knowledge brought her endless delight.
. . . . .
Sometime during the evening, Barandir and his uncle were enjoying the sun convered deck of the zeppelin, their joy however was interrupted by a shadow blocking the sun, it was a large man. He wore a neat black suit and a top-hat, his moustache tiny, curly and impeccable. Beside him stood Sam. Lonkar wasn't sure who the two men were, he didn't recognise Sam, and Barandir instantly realised that he had forgotten to ask the uncle about that favour.
The large man spoke with a deep timbre "It seems that your nephew and my son got into quite the scuffle last night" He pulled out a small wooden box "this will be compensation, so take good care of my son, I fear that he is not safe in Cenharb after what happened last night" a hint of concern marked his words. Lonkar sat up straight, his pipe almost dropping out of his mouth, he looked confused at Barandir with his right eye, what exactly had happened to his nephew?