The Orb of Wrath

  *******

  Ithelas and Mithir reached the city relatively fast. The Mansion on the Hill was quite close: half an hour to one hour from the city, depending on the speed at which you galloped. Their mission was very specific: learn everything they could about vampires and share it with the others in the afternoon. To do this they had decided to go visit Beromort.

  In some cities in the world of Oris, there were wise men whose fame reached beyond their own Counties. These scholars pursued first, and above all, the constant acquisition of knowledge. The vast majority specialized in a particular branch. There were many options: Architecture, Art, Botany, Physics, History, Music, Chemistry ... According to the classifications that had remained in place since the Third Age, there were thirty major areas in which to organize knowledge.

  These wise men usually lived in quiet neighborhoods of major cities, to facilitate public access. Their main source of income was to charge for their consultations. People of all over, who wanted to find out something very concrete, visited them and made their questions for a predetermined fee. Some scholars also accepted students and taught classes. But others preferred to avoid it, because it was time-consuming and a major distraction to their studies. Some simply did not like teaching. But even those who taught avoided providing advanced studies. The deep knowledge of a subject was what distinguished the elite guild of scholars from the rest of society, and it was what allowed them to finance their lifestyle.

  Exceptionally, one could accept an apprentice with whom to share all or, perhaps, most of their knowledge. But such trainees were carefully screened before being accepted. Normally they sought loyal, young people, and they were tied and bound with the teacher for many years or even up to their death. A wise man normally sought an apprentice in two circumstances. When he realized he was nearing the end of his days, with the desire to transfer everything they learned to another person. Or, on the other hand, if the wise man was so successful that he had more work than one person could cover, he could find one or more assistants, who they hired for long periods and usually resolved only the simplest questions.

  Beromort was one of the two famous scholars of Ekunon. The other was named Ky'lumin, but everyone regarded Beromort as the smartest man in the city. Ky'lumin specialized in Architecture. Beromort in Theology. Perhaps a wise man expert in Folklore or History would have been more appropriate to ask about vampires, but they would have to settle for what they could learn from Beromort. Mithir knew, at least in name, the majority of the scholars of the kingdom of Bor and none of them were specialized in Folklore or History. That said, they would have had to travel to another kingdom, perhaps to the Duchies or maybe even further. This meant traveling for weeks or even months. Acquiring knowledge in the world of Oris wasn't easy. That was one of the reasons why knowledge fascinated Mithir and also Ithelas, to some extent. To be able to learn things that almost nobody else knows was both exotic and fascinating.

  Ithelas had visited Beromort several times. On occasion to make a specific inquiry, but more than once he had tried to convince him to organize some courses so he could learn as much as possible about the Order of Light, which was Ithelas' order.

  Following tradition, at nineteen, Ithelas swore his Accession Agreement on a visit to his temple in Borydos, procedure by which a faithful was incorporated in the service of his Church. After serving for six months as an altar boy in this temple, Ithelas was relegated. This process disassociated him from any religious center. He must then return home or to travel the world for a period of ten years, which they called the tithe. During that time he should help others and spread his faith wherever possible. After this period, he would present himself in a larger temple, that is, in a monastery or an abbey, where the head (the prior or abbot, respectively) would interview him to assess the merits during his tithe. If he was defined as suitable, he would be assigned a position in any of the temples or churches of the order for ten years, called the second tithe. But that was still a distant thing for Ithelas; he still had more than six years to go.

  Although he had initially decided to travel around the kingdom of Bor, shortly after the beginning of his tithe, Ithelas' father was exiled. Ithelas then opted for his crusade to be to help his father recover his name and, therefore, stood beside him.

  Ithelas had received a workshop in the temple, after the swearing of the Accession, where he had been taught many things. But this knowledge hadn't satisfied the curiosity of the young cleric at all. During his time as an altar boy, he tried to learn everything he could with other more senior clerics. On the rare occasions when he got permission to enter the temple library, he read and studied everything he could. But this hadn't been enough either. So when he began his tithe, one of the first things he did was go visit Beromort, whom he knew since childhood from his summers in Ekunon. The wise man refused to give him the classes he asked for, but lent him a book about the history of his Order. Ithelas read it so many times that he could recite whole passages by heart.

  Mithir also knew Beromort. He had only visited him once, though. The magician tried to visit and meet the wise men of all the towns and cities through which he passed. If any of them accepted students, he'd try to enroll and learn everything he could about any subject, at least for the time he could stay in that city. All the areas of knowledge interested him, although some more than others. Theology was not one of his favorites. He believed that much of the content of any religion is closer to superstition and therefore farther from the true knowledge. However, even in Theology, there were interesting things like the history of religions, knowledge of the structure and organization of the Orders and, of course, everything related to divine magic.

  Neither Mithir nor Ithelas had the faintest idea whether Beromort could help them. Their mission was to find out, one way or another, everything about vampires. Of all the activities they planned for that day, this was the most important and they both knew it. The life of a part or even of all the members of the group could depend on what they could find out that afternoon. They were determined not to take “no” for an answer.

  Along the way the two young men had “talked”. Ithelas had learned more words in the morning. They used a simple trick. Ithelas pointed to an object and Mithir made the gesture that represented it a couple of times. After Ithelas mimicked the gesture and continued Mithir's corrections until he did it properly. Horse, saddle, sword, boots, pants, tree, road, sun: Ithelas' vocabulary was growing rapidly.

  In addition, Mithir could read lips, although he didn't need this ability to communicate, because his ear worked perfectly. He was still improving this skill but had reached a quite acceptable level. Finally they reached the city and came across the South Gate. They rode through the streets of Ekunon.

  “There they serve the best roast the city,” said Ithelas, pointing to a tavern as they passed a square. “Also, they have pretty good wine for a reasonable price.”

  “Maybe we could go another day, or later, if we have time,” Mithir nodded.

  The cleric wasn't sure, but in any case, it was clear that now was not the time to stop.

  Not much later they were in front of Beromort's house. They left the horses at the door where a boy, who worked for the wise man, would care for them for a silver coin. It was a steal for such a simple service, but the famous wise men had these services. Somehow, it helped to select the people who came to their door, and prevent some chutzpah with no money making them waste their time.

  They entered the building and went up the stairs to the first floor. There was a small and comfortable room where they would wait to be called. As they had arrived quite early, there was no one waiting. They did not know, either, if there was someone in the next room with the wise man, but they knew that if they dared to interrupt to check they could be thrown rudely, without getting any response. So they patiently waited. The wise men were like this. Although some were friendlier than others.

  After a short wait, Beromort appeared at the doorw
ay. He wore a long green robe that covered his ankles. The marked circles under his eyelids denoted fatigue. A long goatee hanged strangely from his chin. The rest of his face and head were perfectly shaved. His black, searching, bright eyes carefully watched the two young customers, assessing the situation.

  “Follow me,” said the wise man to the two of them, as he turned toward the next room.

  They entered a huge room that must occupy the rest of the upper floor. The room was a chaotic mix of a lab, a library, office and warehouse, all in one area without defined divisions. It was very bright because of the big windows it had. All of them overlooked the courtyard that was behind the building. The wall, which was facing the street, had no more than a tiny skylight at the top. It was obvious that Beromort liked his privacy.

  The area of the room that corresponded to a library occupied the entire bottom. Huge shelves stretched from wall to wall and from the floor to the ceiling, with multiple shelves full to the brim with books of all colors and sizes. It was amazing to think how he had managed to store so many books in such a relatively small space. The area on the right, after crossing the door, had several tables with stills, funnels, test tubes and glass containers. One of the tables had what looked like sand or powders of various types stored in many jars. Most of the containers were covered in dust, and Mithir realized that the laboratory wasn't used frequently.

  In the central area of ​​the room, there were a couple of desks full of papers with a big chair behind them in which Beromort sat. He instructed them to take a seat on a bench opposite him.

  “So? Tell me,” he said, after watching his two visitors carefully for a few seconds.

  “Beromort, we are delighted that you met with us,” Ithelas began.

  The wise man indicated for them to continue.

  “This is Mithir, a friend. I think he visited you in the past, and has told me many times how impressed he was with your wisdom, which does not surprise me,” continued the cleric.

  Appealing to the vanity of a wise man was a pretty old trick. But in practice it worked many more times than it was a mistake.

  “What we want to ask you is ... a little unusual. It is also urgent; we need the information you can provide us today, preferably this morning. We want you to tell us everything you know about vampires,” Ithelas unceremoniously said.

  Beromort raised an eyebrow, indicating some surprise. It was obvious he didn't receive many inquiries like this.

  “Indeed, it is not a usual request. Why the urgency, if I may ask?” asked the wise man.

  “We must start a mission shortly, and there is a chance that we might have to meet this danger, although we'll avoid it if possible. I think we don't need to go into more details,” said the cleric.

  “I see,” Beromort said thoughtfully.

  The wise man got up and asked them not to touch anything. He walked to the back of the room, and he reviewed and consulted several books. He returned a little later with a book bound in leather; it was obvious that it had been used a lot, and then he sat back in his chair. Mithir and Ithelas waited impatiently.

  “The first thing I must clarify, though you probably already know, is that this is not my area of interest and, therefore, I don't have all the answers you seek,” said the wise man as he looked at them seriously.

  “We know. But we were hoping you could help us anyways,” said the cleric, pleadingly.

  “You're looking for, among other things, detailed information on how to recognize, how to protect yourself from a vampire and, maybe even, how to kill them. You can't get these answers from me, if you have got so little time,” Beromort said with great shrewdness. “Another thing is if you had made this request with a little more foresight,” added the wise man with a disapproving tone.

  The two young men decided to say nothing and wait for the wise man to tell them what he knew.

  “Vampires are extremely dangerous. And surely the best thing you can do for your own good is to avoid them at all costs. In the past they had become real pests. Some say that a vampire plague almost collapsed, centuries ago, the empire of the Duchies Carition, despite all its resources.”

  The wise man paused and began looking for something in the leather notebook. While leafing through the pages, he continued with the lecture.

  “They form a part of the family of the undead. That is, they were once some kind of humanoid (dwarf, medium, gnome, human, elf, etc.). The subject in question never died, but became a vampire. This has to happen by a process that another vampire starts. Vampires aren't created by spontaneous generation. They also say that the undead retain the memories of their previous lives.”

  Beromort stopped at one of the pages of the notebook and turned to look at them.

  “There are no kind vampires. They are all the servants of evil. Therefore, most religions consider them enemies, but only a few have had the opportunity or need to combat them. For example, we haven't had any news of vampires in the kingdom of Bor for many years, even centuries. Moreover, the religions that pursue evil, the Darken worshipers, consider the vampires their allies. I heard that some religions worship vampires as minor gods, but I haven't verified this.”

  Mithir and Ithelas looked at each other. All this information was useful, but they didn't believe that it would be good enough to solve their basic problem.

  “There's a man in Ekunon. He's called Aspulax. He is one of the librarians at the General Library of the city. I remember that I spoke to him once. In any case, you must go to him. I don't know where he lives, so ask for him in the library. Someone told me that Aspulax came years ago from a remote country and he used to be a cleric of an Order from which we have no news of. Aspulax's Order has faced vampires at various times in its history. Unfortunately, I can't remember the name of that order. Surely this man can give you more answers,” Beromort said as he stood up.

  The two young men understood that they must stand up too, and they did. The wise man led them to the door with a nod and then sat down to return to his papers. They went out the door of the room and down to the lower floor.

  “Come in here,” said a voice from the next room the instant they finished descending the stairs.

  The small room had a table with an elderly official who moved multiple papers back and forth. After a while he stopped and looked at them.

  “The fees for the wise man today will be fifty gold coins,” he told them, pointing to a box that was in the corner of the table.

  Mithir pulled a bag from his pocket, counted the coins and placed them where he had indicated. Then the two young men left the building. The rate was the standard appropriate for a simple and brief consultation. They actually paid much less than they had thought would be necessary, but, on the other hand, the information obtained was also very limited. Normally a wise man established a priori how much the service would cost and how long it would take. Furthermore, it was common they would ask for half in advance before beginning the investigation. When Ithelas saw that Beromort was beginning to give some details about vampires, without a pre-established fee, immediately he thought that they would probably not get much information. Either that or the wise man was very generous, which hadn't been the case in all the time he had known him.

  It was mid-morning, and the sun seemed not to warm up at all. They took back their horses and, after greeting the young man who watched them, they departed. Ekunon was known for its library and Engineering School. These constituted not only two major poles of knowledge but also the economic activity in the city. Most of the cities of the Kingdom did not have a library. This was a privilege usually reserved for large cities like this. Still, only a few had such facilities. In both places you could find and buy rare books. In fact, this was one of the products that the city exported to other places.

  The magician and the cleric, full of expectation, rode the gentle jog through the streets of the city. It was the maximum speed allowed without being reprimanded, or even fined, by the militia. Soon they reac
hed their destination. The General Library was in the Ekunon Central Square, opposite the residence of the Mayor, and was one of the notable buildings in the city. Some people visited it just to admire the architecture. The main facade was completely carved in stone, mounted on richly carved huge blocks. Front pillars divided the facade into sections, and they were topped by enormous gargoyles, which appeared to support the roof of the building with its claws. They entered.

  “... I ... speak here,” Ithelas thought he understood the magician say.

  The young cleric was surprised but said nothing. How could Mithir take the lead there being dumb?

  After passing the main lobby, Mithir motioned for him to follow. Rather than going straight to enter the main room of the library, the young magician turned to the right by one of the service corridors and began to walk quickly through a labyrinthine building area that Ithelas had never visited. After three turns, Ithelas already felt lost and didn't feel capable of getting out of there easily on his own. Mithir opened a door and started down the stairs leading to the basement. The cleric, who had been often in the library of the city where he lived, didn't even know that the building had a basement. On reaching the lower level, Ithelas followed the magician through another corridor and then, after two more turns, came to a door that the magician knocked on.

  “Come in,” said a voice from inside.

  They entered the small room. It was the office of a copyist, whose mission was to create new copies of already written books. It was a craft, slow and laborious, and the main reason why the books, even the most basic ones, were relatively expensive.

  “Mithir, I'm so happy to see you!” said the man, who immediately began to make multiple gestures.

  Ithelas realized that he asked the magician how he was doing, and then told him some things about the library, which he could not understand. Mithir responded with gestures and then introduced Ithelas. The man got up to shake his hand.

  “Mithir's friends are my friends. What's your name, young cleric of the Order of Light?” said the copyist suddenly.

  It was obvious that Mithir could say a lot of things with just a few gestures.

  “Ithelas. Nice to meet you. And yours?” asked the cleric.

  “Ingucius. I am one of the permanent copyists of this library,” said the man.

  “Yes, I can see you working. We regret the disruption,” Ithelas apologized.

  “Not at all! I am always happy to talk to Mithir.”

  Ingucius told them to sit down. After a few gestures from Mithir, the copyist began to verbalize everything the young magician said, facilitating the dialogue among the three of them. Mithir explained in very general terms the risks of the mission that they faced and then their meeting this morning with the wise man Beromort. When he finished the story, Ingucius was thoughtful for a moment and then asked them to wait there. A while later, the man returned with a heavy volume and placed it on the table.

  “Well, the bad news is that Aspulax hasn’t worked here for several months now. He said goodbye and returned to his country. I knew him, though I did not talk to him much. The truth is that I don't even remember what country he was from. Here, in the library, many people work, as you can imagine,” explained the copyist with a tone of concern.

  “Oh, what luck!” Ithelas cried, while Mithir made a gesture and put his hands on his head.

  After briefly glancing and looking at the huge tome, Ingucius continued.

  “The good news is that, as we are a disciplined library, we document everything. Everything! Also, our employees' records. Here it is! Aspulax's file. Before continuing, let's see ... I must tell you that the information of the people working here is confidential. So, I will tell you only that which may be relevant to what you seek, and only in deference to Mithir. In addition, you must promise not to repeat to anyone what I'm going to tell you,” warned the copyist.

  “Of course!” answered the two young men at the same time.

  After perusing the file, Ingucius got up and told them:

  “According to what I could see, Aspulax was a native of the Baronies Ripstein. I don't think the rest of the information is useful. Moreover, the file has a reference to the original document of entry. I'll look and see if we have more information there. It'll be faster if you come with me. Follow me,” said the copyist, gesturing with his hand as he took the heavy volume with the other.

  Again they began to tour several corridors until they reached a staircase; this time it went down to another level. The staircase led to a huge room without any division, but full of huge shelves with files and books, mostly large ones. They followed Ingucius, who decidedly walked the halls of the room. After stopping to check the numbering of the shelves in a couple of occasions, they reached a corridor that contained tomes identical to the one the copyist had in his hand. Ingucius returned the tome to a gap that was left in one of the lower shelves.

  The copyist then went back and in the center aisle, took a small piece of scroll from his pocket. On it he had written down some numbers before leaving his office.

  “This is the room of the Personnel Archives. Here all the documentation relating to the employees is saved,” he explained while walking.

  After turning a few times in two aisles, he finally stopped in front of a shelf of wooden boxes of medium size that were organized by year of entry, he explained. He took one of the boxes, opened it and began to review the documentation. After a few minutes he took some papers.

  “I have it! The file number that we were looking for,” he said triumphantly, while he pointed again for them to follow him.

  In the back of the room, there was a row of tables with oil lamps. They sat around one of them and Ingucius began reviewing the document. For a long while the copyist read quietly and concentrated.

  “This is what I can ascertain,” said the copyist while the young men listened intently. “Years ago, while he still lived in the Baronies Ripstein, Aspulax was a cleric in the Order of Air, which worships the goddess Tiwind.”

  “I've never heard of that order. I wasn't even aware that the goddess Tiwind had an Order dedicated to her,” Mithir said.

  “The truth is that I didn't know, either,” admitted Ithelas.

  “From what it seems, it must be a popular order in that country, because it mentioned that some of his friends were also in it,” Ingucius said. “So as Beromort said, this is a good lead to follow. And I think I know how we can continue. On the record, it also mentions that one of his favorite books is A Detailed History of the Order of the Air, in the version published by the Monastery of Telodarah. This is a stroke of luck. This reference gives us a quick way to find the book here, if we fortunately have a copy. I hope so, because our collection of ecclesiastical texts is large, as Ithelas knows. Follow me again.”

  After returning the form to the box, and placing it carefully, they followed Ingucius who led them through the archive hall, up to the basement where he had his office and finally, through a spiral staircase that led directly to a secluded part of the huge main room of the library area. There he led them to a table to sit on and then disappeared in the huge room. He returned a while later.

  “Here it is. We have several copies, so I brought three. I thought we could browse the book in parallel to try to cover more pages. I'll check up to chapter twelve. Mithir, you check from chapter twelve to twenty. Ithelas, please, review the last chapters,” organized the copyist.

  This research was proving very laborious and was taking them a long time, but they were hopeful of being able to get useful information. After reading and skimming for a while, they managed to find some useful information. The Order of the Air had fought vampires in various periods of its history in the Baronies Ripstein. The names of some martyrs who had died in that crusade were provided. The most famous of them all was a man named Kusour who had lived three centuries ago. They called him the Vampire Slayer. In the end he lost his life in that fight, but before he killed more than ten, twenty or a h
undred vampires, according to different references. The book didn't say much about the vampires per se. But it provided new information that seemed interesting. Kusour had contributed his knowledge about vampires to a collection called Classic Bestiary of Baronies Ripstein.

  Ingucius left and returned again a half hour later. He carried an old book in his hand.

  “I struggled to find it. It is the only copy we have. I've browsed over it and think it is what you are looking for. The books in this catalog are not available for loan, but for sale. It's categorized as a rare book, so it's quite expensive,” he warned them. “I can let you take a look so you can decide if it's worth the money. Supposedly it's five hundred gold coins! Mithir, I can try to get you a discount, but I can't promise you anything. I'll talk to the cashier while you look through it,” said the copyist.

  The two young men rushed anxiously on the book. It spoke of all kinds of strange creatures, most of which they had never heard of. They finally arrived on the vampire chapter. In it, they gave many details of these creatures, their habits and their strengths and weaknesses. It was certainly what they had come for. When Ingucius returned shortly after and explained that he had no luck with the cashier, they rushed to give him a bag of gold. And after thanking all the time and effort he had devoted to them, they hurried out of the General Library, took their horses and headed home.