The Sword and the Flame: The Forging

  *****

  “Three hundred ninety… four hundred.” Janessa watched the purser count off her winnings while she counted along, there were few she trusted with that much money. When he finished she closed the pouch as tight as she could. She did the same for the other three bags, tying it to her belt next to the others.

  Janessa smiled at the purser, “Thanks, hopefully I’ll be just as lucky tomorrow.” She was sure she was mistaken, but she could swear the young man’s face turned pale after she spoke. Undaunted, she turned to leave but only made it a few steps before she turned into a group of shadows taking herself out of view of anyone that may have been interested in her. Secure in the shadows, Janessa took out another pouch Viola gave her a few months earlier. She’d been told it was enchanted and could carry the largest of items without any added weight or change in size. It had been one of Viola’s first conjurings, one of the few high level spells she was able to cast without an explosion of some sort.

  Knowing the Halfling’s talent for acquiring items, Viola felt Janessa would have greater need of it than she would. The thought of her friend caused Janessa to pause as she emptied the four pouches of gold into the magiked bag without a sound. She wondered where Viola went but Janessa decided she must’ve gone back to Hope without her. A shame, Janessa thought, that Viola’s always so moody. Be that as it was, she was entitled to half of the winnings. Janessa planned to throw in half of what she found in purses “carelessly” discarded. They did well for themselves, she thought while putting stones into the now empty pouches and tied them back into place. Once ready, she made her way through the shadows and between the tents to ensure no one was following her.

  The walk back to Hope was peaceful and allowed her to daydream about the human barbarian. She couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how much he meant to her at the moment. Her purse was full and her heart sang a song. She knew Viola would call it infatuation, and maybe she was right. Janessa thought on it for a moment, but if that’s all it was then it was one of her weaknesses that made them rich. “Now what would she say to that I wonder?” Janessa muttered to herself as she approached the entrance to Hope.

  Hope was a simple, small city the inhabitants decided to surround with a stone wall for protection. There were those that chose to live outside the walls and the safety they provided. Farmers mostly, they owned little thieves and bandits would want aside from their wives or daughters should the mood strike. It was far easier and safer to ambush travelers on the roadway as they weren’t protected by the Sheriff or Hope’s army. To keep the city safe, the gates were closed and locked after a certain hour and guards patrolled along the walls. The measures seemed extreme to Janessa since the last war fought around Hope was over two hundred years earlier.

  As curious as she was, Janessa knew better than to try to enter after the gate was closed. Sheriff Tavers would throw her in jail and keep her gold for himself. She contented herself to look upon the stone archway above the main gate. A beautiful design was carved into each stone with loving care, ensuring the carvings lined up properly. Dwarven make most likely, she thought as she gazed up at it, though she had no idea of its history. She noticed for the first time that the design looked like a rising sun to her. Maybe the Elves made it; they loved nature and the giving of life. An interesting comparison of the two vastly different cultures. She looked around and cursed Viola for abandoning her. Viola knew her levitation spell was how they planned to get into the city. Frustrated, the Halfling looked for a comfortable place to rest until she could figure out how to get home, the last thing she needed was to be forced to sleep outdoors. There was bound to be thieves and other bandits roaming about with the pit fights and merchants there and, despite what many may think, there is no such thing as honor among thieves.

  Viola continued on her way after her new friend, and soon to be master, bid her a safe journey. She thought it odd he’d do so since she only had to cross a field. It wasn’t until after she was halfway across the large field that she realized it was a common farewell. She was annoyed with herself after questioning why he said such a thing when she was fond of using the same farewell. There were times she felt as naïve as Janessa often accused her or being.

  She stopped when she realized she forgot about Janessa. She fought back a wave of panic and tried to think. Everything had a logical means; one just had to find it. Viola knew she was being a fool. Janessa would’ve waited for her, even looked for her before suspecting the young mage already headed home. The only problem would’ve been entering Hope. Tavers wouldn’t allow anyone to enter at that hour even if they were residents. Her best course of action, she reasoned, was to go to their designated meeting place outside the wall.

  The area they selected wasn’t far from the edge of the field and took less time than Viola thought it would to reach it. She tried not to worry but the tendrils of fear wouldn’t stop trying to pierce her heart. Janessa was far more resilient and able to handle those situations than she was. As Janessa always told her, Viola was a bookworm and needed to experience the world and life, more than she was. Viola wanted to experience more but she wanted to make sure she was strong enough in magic and knowledge before she took the next step. The facts of life were simple, an unprepared or undisciplined mage would soon be defeated and dead. That was a fate she wished to avoid as much as possible. Even so, Viola had to admit the two of them being so different was what made them such great friends. In some ways it was as if one completed the other, they were inseparable. The reason behind their separation that evening puzzled the young mage while she continued her trek by the full moon light.

  *****

  “Will you stop and listen to me for a minute? You’re becoming as thick headed as Renard.” The two men had been walking through the forest for the better part of an hour searching for something. Well, that’s what Berek claimed they were doing. The middle aged man following believed his nephew was trying to get them lost. Gilliam had never been able to understand his own flesh and blood.

  They came from a family whose tradition as artists and seekers of knowledge were legendary throughout the land. It’d been a shock to Gilliam’s father when he told him he wished to become a healer or cleric, as they’re known in the ancient lands far to the north. One of their bloodline, his own son, was to become a healer? To those in his family there were few, if any, positions lower. He could scarcely imagine what would happen if they discovered the fate of his nephew.

  A religious man, Gilliam was drawn to the church of Fallor and its reputation for healing for as long as he could remember. Although not devout, as many believed he should be, Gilliam was sent on a quest to find an artifact that would benefit the church as well as to demonstrate the righteousness of their deity. Gilliam believed, just as his superiors did, that once he held a sacred object his faith would be strengthened a hundred fold. That was ten years earlier; he could still remember the cool autumn morning he left the temple in Narosia. At the time, he believed it would be a matter of days before he returned. Ah, the arrogance and petulance of youth. He refused to accept defeat and instead of returning to the temple in failure, he wrapped himself in what little faith his fellow clerics deemed he had and continued on his path. Stubborn, he refused to accept their aid and as time and trials passed he found himself growing in his faith and power.

  He first stumbled across Renard’s company near a large coastal city named Rissa. Thinking he’d earn some money helping to heal the fighters taking part in those barbaric games, he joined the company. Surprise wasn’t the only emotion he felt when first seeing his nephew. It horrified him to learn the young man left home to hone his skills as a warrior. Feeling an obligation outside the calling of the church, Gilliam remained in the company to help ensure Berek’s continued health.

  Trudging through the forest Gilliam still found amazement at his nephew needing little healing, aside from a burn on his shoulder from the lizard man’s venom during their match. In all the years he spent with Renard’s comp
any, he never once saw Berek injured beyond a few scratches or cuts. Perhaps it was through kinship he stayed, or most likely, from a bond the two shared as outcasts from their own families. Gilliam knew it was the will of Fallor for him to remain with his nephew, but for what purpose he wasn’t certain. Now he watched Berek continue on as if he didn’t hear the older man’s frustration.

  It was dark by then, making it the perfect opportunity to find the hidden cave outside Hope’s walls. Rumors said it had been an ancient escape tunnel built during the last wars so the ruler and his family could escape in the event Hope was sacked. Those same rumors claimed the city hid its vast treasures in those caves and that some of it had been left behind following an earthquake. Forgotten, it sat waiting to be found by some daring adventurer. Berek smiled to himself in the darkness. If the rumors were true, he’d be a rich man by morning and would buy his freedom from Renard. While Berek doubted the treasure was real, he felt it worth his time if only to see the look on Renard’s face after he discovered his main attraction walked out of camp without anyone caring.

  As an afterthought, Berek glanced over his shoulder at his uncle. Gilliam seemed to age so much in the years since he joined Renard’s company. Berek remembered when the pair first recognized each other after so many years apart. At first, Gilliam appeared ragged, as though he was an escaped slave or convict. Berek was certain it wasn’t either one of those. His uncle Gilliam was the legendary black sheep of the family, at least until Berek’s talent became public knowledge.

  Berek’s wry smile grew in the shadows at the memory. Gilliam already left by the time Berek was sent away, so Berek was certain his uncle didn’t know why he was a fighter in Renard’s company. Such a shame, Berek thought, that he’s as blind to the truth as he is in the dark. “Come uncle, the way isn’t so treacherous as to compare me to that toad is it?” The mocking tone in Berek’s voice was unmistakable, he’d always been proud and arrogant as a child.

  Gilliam chose to ignore his nephew’s tone for that reason.. “By the Gods Berek, how can you see on a night like this?” The moon was full and its light was more than enough to see by, but the canopy of the trees blocked out any light trying to find a an opening. He doubted that even the sun’s rays could pierce the thick foliage.

  Berek chuckled, shrugging his answer. “I don’t know, it’s something I’ve always been able to do when I needed to.” He stopped short of pointing out it began as a small child when he was afraid of the dark. Over the years he managed to control his ability and in doing so he learned of a great many more. Both of those had their own time and place for discussion and this wasn’t it.

  Gilliam could tell there was something his nephew wasn’t telling him, but he let it pass for the moment. He heard his brother discussing the “strange things” Berek could do as a young boy before he left for Narosia. Gilliam believed his brother’s tale was one of overreaction, maybe he’d been mistaken about it. But now that Berek admitted he had some strange abilities, Gilliam paused in alarm. How hadn’t I noticed before now? He asked himself while they were surrounded in darkness. The answer eluded him for the moment but his emotions faded once he realized he and his nephew were more alike than anyone ever realized. “What are you looking for out here? Another fight perhaps?”

  Berek smiled, gazing around them. “Only if one’s inevitable, uncle.” His gaze settled on a grove of trees a handful of meters to the side. Sitting close together, they were the perfect camouflage for the average passerby. He slowly approached the grove, one could never be too careful of booby traps, if the rumors were true of course. “An opening to a cave or tunnel, uncle. We may have found it.” Only then did he realize his uncle couldn’t see in the dark so he stopped. “Be careful where you step uncle, there may be traps or snares.”

  Gilliam stopped stricken for a moment and watching Berek continue on his course unimpeded. Feeling ashamed at his reaction, Gilliam stepped forward and, upon nothing happening, continued following his nephew. “You’ve taken us into a trapper’s area to find a cave? I dare say that I think you took one too many hits to the head in the fights. The ground around these parts is smooth; the nearest cave would be in the mountains.”

  Smiling to himself, Berek was grateful the night and its shadows hid his expressions so well. Gilliam may be a man of the world but he hadn’t heard the rumors. Trappers area, that was a good one, although it was possible they were in someone’s hunting grounds. They weren’t too far from the city walls, well within the distance for squirrel and rabbit hunters. “Not necessarily a cave uncle, but a tunnel or air chute.” He reached the grove of trees and began to feel the ground for any openings or covers.

  Gilliam reached the grove and knelt down to do the same. In his mind, he began putting a few of the pieces of the puzzle together. “Do I want to know what you hope to find within those tunnels or caves?”

  Berek laughed, “Forgive me uncle, I assumed you were as incompetent as you would have others believe.” He felt a sudden growing admiration for the cleric at his side; there was a strength and understanding hidden by simple gestures and words. He’d be certain never to underestimate anyone like that again. “You probably wouldn’t like it, but it’s a treasure chamber.”

  Gilliam’s eyes burned with pride at Berek’s confession and unspoken compliment. He knew his nephew well it seemed. However, in seconds it was replaced by a feeling of misgiving. “It belongs to this city.”

  “It did.” Berek knew it wasn‘t a question, but he continued as if it were. “Rumors claimed a portion of it was left behind either forgotten or purposely.”

  Gilliam thought it over for a moment, “A tribute of some kind? But to who or what?”

  “That is the question at hand, uncle. I don’t put much faith in the rumors, but if they’re true I can finally be rid of Renard.”

  Gilliam paused, watching his nephew for a moment as he finally understood why he found him pit fighting for a bastard like Renard. It wasn’t to improve his skills as a warrior like Berek claimed. His birthright and pride would never allow him to say what he really was. A slave. With his own determination the cleric redoubled his efforts to find the opening of an air shaft and the first proof that the rumors were true.

  Continuing their search, Gilliam couldn’t help but let his mind wander. First in his thoughts were how his nephew happened upon this life and second, and very disturbing to himself, was why he didn’t see the reason all of those years earlier? Or had he and he chose not to believe it true? The final thought sent a shiver through his body. He must’ve seen it, otherwise why would he have stayed? For the first time in years he openly questioned what the God of neutrality had planned for him.

  *****

  Okay, she was at the rendezvous for the two to get back into the city but where was Janessa? Viola glanced around and muttered a curse. The Halfling was probably in their room sleeping while she stood outside the wall in the moonlight like a low level thief even Janessa would scoff at. She thought about levitating herself over the wall but hesitated when she heard a sound in the woods behind her.

  Viola turned from the wall, her thoughts broken by the sudden disturbance. Her mind focused on defensive spells she needed in case of an attack. “Who’s there?” Not the smartest thing to do, she realized too late. The last thing she wanted to do give herself away. Luckily, nothing leapt out at her or fired an arrow or spear in her direction. Part of her reasoned the sound belonged to a squirrel or some other animal running around the forest late at night.

  She gave into the part of her that wanted to be like Janessa, adventurous and outgoing, and took several steps into the forest. After a moment she noticed the normal sounds of the night weren’t there. The realization dawned on her too late as she felt someone grab her left arm, the one carrying her new books. The sudden jerk caused her to drop them. From the sound of the man behind her, the books fell onto his foot, his hand loosened enough that she was able to pull free from his grip.

  “Gut her you fools! Keep
her quiet!” Viola turned towards the sound of the voice and made a motion in the air while mumbling a few words of magic. The man, who seemed to be their leader, fell backwards as an invisible force shoved him. Movement to her left caught her attention but she caught a backhand across her cheek when she turned to face it. Stunned, she hit the ground with a handful of shadows standing over her.

  A squeak and scuffle to her side ended when small, gentle hands grabbed her shoulders. “Leave her alone!”

  “Janessa?” The words came out slurred due to a fat lip. Viola tried to sit up but the Halfling’s hands held her as still as they could.

  “Kill the magic user before she can cast another of her cursed spells.” Ordered the voice of the man Viola sent backwards a moment earlier. He regained his footing and his mood turned fouler.

  “No! Keep away from her!” Janessa stood, placing herself between her friend and the small group that ambushed them. “You took everything we have, now go! Be off with you!”

  A chuckle traveled through the group of five men, the only one that hadn’t made a sound was the one that ordered Viola killed. He proved Janessa’s assumption that he was the leader when he bent over until he could look her in the eye. His features were difficult for her to make out in the pale light of the moon, but what she could see terrified her. His face was lined with scars from what she guessed was every weapon in existence and his breath smelled worse than death. She didn’t feel such fear when they happened upon her minutes earlier, but then she was bolstered by the knowledge that her friend needed her. Otherwise, she would’ve run by then. The group’s leader sensed the same thing.

  “Well what have we here? A brave Halfling, and loyal too.” His deformed face split into a grin while the rest of the group burst into laughter. “Never thought I’d live to see the day.” Glancing over his shoulder he joined his companions in their laugh, “You think we should have some fun with them first?”