If all human towns are like Ironburg, it is no wonder that they are always so angry. Even the ruins of the temple put this shabby cluster of buildings surrounding a dirty mine to shame. Everything here seems to be covered in a fine layer of black dust, even the people.
Unlike the inn it doesn’t look like these wood and thatch buildings would do a very good job at keeping everything warm and dry. Maybe they once would have but time has made it so that they are barely even buildings at all. Should have built their houses out of stone. It lasts longer.
Sometimes it even lasts beyond the collapse of your culture and extermination of the people who once dwelt in its halls.
I wonder why Popov is staying here—what about this place screams safety from werewolves? And why are werewolves even after the man anyway?
Probably some things I should have thought of before setting out on this fool’s errand. But if everything goes according to plan, I won’t have to know those details. And if they don’t… well, at the very least I won’t have to wonder.
I am only here to get Magnar out, and then I can leave as well. With my face intact.
The largest building in town is right at the center of a cluster of dilapidated and crumbling houses. Popov strikes me as the type of man, at least from what I made out of him from my vision, who would not even consider stepping foot in a building unless it was the biggest in town, so that is where we head first.
“Do you think you can handle yourself on your own?” Laellina asks suddenly. I suppose she worries that I will say something that will make my upbringing startlingly apparent. I’m not sure what I would say to give away that I had grown up in isolation, but then… I don’t know what to say to prove that I haven’t.
It isn’t like I’m the only one who never left my home. I’m sure most of the people living in this crumbling little town were born here, raised here, and probably intend to die here someday. Only difference is their home is a human mining town and mine is a temple dedicated to a demigod whose worship is technically outlawed.
“Of course I can handle myself, but even if I can’t at least I will have you here with me…”
I trail off as Laellina sucks her lip in between her teeth. A trademark sign that she is about to say something that she thinks I don’t want to hear. And she isn’t usually wrong.
I brace myself, my feet stalling on the hardened dirt road. I take comfort in the fact that these aren’t cobblestones, but as soon as I think that I realize that a cobblestone path starts up as we near the largest building. The buildings here are somewhat nicer—some have makeshift shelters with cloth roofs built into them, which appear to be shops of some sort. “What?”
“This is where, at least for now, we must part ways.”
“What?” I demand, whirling on her so fast that the hood on the robes I am wearing situated over my armor flies off. I take a moment to situate it, to protect my already sun kissed cheeks from more burns and to hide from first viewing my Higher Elf status.
Not that it changes much, but I would like to walk down the streets without being stared after as people wondered what a strange Higher Elf is doing in their town. And if I’m dangerous or not.
Laellina holds up her hands in a pacifying gesture. “You came down from the temple because you had a purpose. Well, I do too.”
“I thought your purpose was to help me,” I cry. Maybe I’m getting a little too worked up, people are starting to stare from their market stalls set up next to their homes. But I hadn’t realized how much I relied on the fact that Laellina was here with me. She hadn’t been in the vision. As long as she remained by my side, we were fighting against the vision just by doing that.
“I know that I told you not to tell me what your vision was, but answer me this one thing. Am I even in it?”
“Well… no. But that’s why I need you here.”
“You cannot change the progress of time.” Laellina smiles at me, but somewhat sadly. “You believe you need to save this boy, well, go and save him. Use your vision to your advantage. The Lady of Dawn would have chosen another if she did not think you capable of this.”
I reach up and gingerly touch my cheek. I don’t plan on accepting defeat so easily, but trying to convince Laellina otherwise when she thinks only a god or one of their children can do what I want to do… well, she would never listen. “What are you planning on doing then?” I ask instead.
She tilts her head. “This is the closest village to our temple. I am hoping to make some inquiries here and in any surrounding homesteads about the priests who never returned. Perhaps I can find them. Or some evidence of what became of them.” I open my mouth but she holds up her hand. “I know it is probably a wasted effort, but I need to at least try. On the chance that I succeed, I cannot risk not searching for them.”
“You’re right,” I murmur. How nice it would be to have someone older and wiser, who knows more about the Lady of Dawn to explain what was going on. To take the lead. Currently it is only me and Laellina. While she is on this mission it is going to be just me.
And I am terrified. I have never been alone my whole life. I have always had someone to look over me, and now as soon as I am in a foreign world, I am expected to fend for myself.
But it’s okay, I tell myself. I had the vision, I have an advantage over every other person here because I know the future. “Where should we meet up?”
She is silent for a long moment as she ponders this. “Since we do not know the time frame of your vision—”
“It can’t be long. Winter is almost here. It’s only a matter of time before this whole place is blanketed in snow.”
Laellina sucks in her lip between her teeth and nods. “Give me a week.”
“A week?” I was planning on talking to Magnar and leaving with him. If I can do that then I don’t have to worry about anything else. Magnar no longer with Popov means he is nowhere near the werewolves when they attack.
“I may need to follow up on any leads I find. Besides, you should probably use that time to earn this Magnar’s trust. I doubt he will just drop everything, regardless of what you say. Least of all for a sorceress.”
“You’re right,” I mumble. As per usual. I honestly shouldn’t have expected otherwise, Laellina is usually never wrong. But in this one area I refuse to accept it. I need to save his life and stop the vision from taking place. To stop my own face from getting cut.
I figured that Magnar would be equally desperate to save his life, but once again who I am betrays me.
Who would simply trust a sorceress enough to leave everything behind and leave their village? Fools like that end up as a necromancer’s puppet.
He didn’t have this vision; he doesn’t understand the urgency. And how is he going to just trust the word of a Higher Elf sorceress?
Another question I should have considered before even leaving. I am putting myself at great risk to be here. I am injured in this vision as well, but I did it for Magnar. Because I thought that saving him was the right thing to do. I never considered for a second that he might not let me save him.
Laellina bows her head, touching the tip of her nose and running her finger down her lips and to her chin. It’s one of the few things that survived from Higher Elf culture. Or at least partially survived. It’s our way of saluting each other, saying farewell with a gesture. It always felt unfinished to me, something missing from the gesture. Maybe it’s supposed to come off that way. I mean, if you think of it, every farewell is unfinished, hanging in the air until you say hello again.
It’s what I hate so much about the priests. There are so many farewells hanging in the air around me. It tries to choke me of the oppression of the loss.
I silently vow to myself, no matter what happens in a week’s time, I will find Laellina again and punctuate our farewell with another hello. Until then, I suppose we are both in Lady Dawn’s hands.
I tap the tip of my nose, returning the gesture and then turn on my heel and stride toward the manor before I do something idiotic like call off this whole rescue mission and join Laellina in her own quest. Although maybe the idiotic thing is to go off on my own and try to save the life of a man I have never even met.
There are two guards standing outside the building, wearing the white tunics with a red crest on them like in my vision. The crest was too blurry to make out in the vision, but it looks close enough in shape that it is probably true. It’s in that moment that I finally grasp the fact that it really was a vision. I could not have gotten the details like the crest or the color of the uniform from a mere dream. I don’t know how much of me still hadn’t fully believed that I had seen the future, but that part is definitely disappointed.
It also means that I’m in the right place. I clear my throat. “I’m here to see a man by the name of Popov.”
“That’s Lord Popov to you,” the guard grumbles. His eyes look me up and down, his eyes lingering on my ratty and frayed purple robes. “Another magicker mercenary, eh? Well, lucky for you, the boss is probably desperate enough to hire even your kind.”
Oh I see… Popov owns Ironburg. My eyes about bug out of my skull. According to the innkeeper, he had a family home that was attacked by werewolves and if my suspicions are correct then he owns a mining town as well. How wealthy is this man?
“Don’t mind Stanislas,” the other guard says with a chuckle. “He doesn’t follow my rule of not angering a magicker, no matter if they are either races of elves or men. Helps you to keep from getting incinerated, I think. But Stanislas’s problem is he doesn’t usually do that. Think that is.”
I glance at the second guard. Both of these men are much shorter than the innkeeper I saw last night, I wonder if that means they are Lowlanders. I don’t know much about identifying between the two clans of humans. What I do know is that Lowlanders have magic and Highlanders are immune to it. And that Highlanders are generally taller and off broader stock while Lowlanders are shorter and closer to Higher Elves in build.
“You could have gone to the Academy and become a magicker yourself, then you wouldn’t have to worry about being defenseless against magic,” the first guard, Stanislas, grumbles.
“If money were made out of regrets, I would be a wealthy man. Anyway, I’m sorry, miss, but before anyone can go in to see Lord Popov they need to err… remove their…”
“You need to take off your clothes,” Stanislas says with a roll of his eyes.
“My clothes?” I gasp out, I’m sure my face is probably sky blue at this point.
The other guard is also blushing, just as hard if not harder than me, although this is shown by his skin taking on a rosy color. “It’s a security measure, routine inspection, to make sure that you weren’t bitten by a werewolf.”
“What would that have to do with anything?” I ask.
“Everyone knows that werewolves, just like vampires, spread their curse through their bite,” Stanislas says with a snort.
“Oh.” I had indeed known that, but I was so flustered by the guard saying that I needed to remove my clothes that I’m currently having a hard time remembering my own name.
I’m standing there trying to figure out just how committed I am to this cause when the other guard rubs at the back of his neck, his skin as red as a poppy, just like I had heard humans turned when they were uncomfortable. “Um… would you like me to find you a maid to do the inspection?”
I swallow past my suddenly dry throat. “That would be preferred.”
“Says who,” Stanislas grumbles. His fellow guard smacks him before I make up my mind if I wanted to or not.
“Have some decency.”
“We’re mercenaries. What’s decency?”
The second guard rolls his eyes and then glances back at me. “Follow me inside, there is a small chamber just to the right of the door. I will need you to wait there while I go find a maid to help us.”
Stanislas is glaring at me, his arms crossed as if he expects me to make a run for it. I flash a rude gesture at him, ducking my hand behind my back just as the second guard returns with a dark-haired maid trailing behind him. She has small features, streaked in soot, and hair pinned back in her cap. She curtsies when she sees me, and shuts the door behind her.
“I know how terribly uncomfortable this must be, but the master demands his safety.”
“Has Popov always been like this?” I ask, starting to work off my armor. I mean, I certainly wouldn’t want to tangle with a werewolf, although if my vision comes true, I may just have to. Still, from what I’ve heard, werewolves are generally peaceful creatures… okay, perhaps not peaceful per say, but they tend to stick to themselves.
“It’s been worse since the beasts invaded his home. But one has to be cautious when they wage a war against the children of Netlruna.”
I can barely process what she said, it seems too ridiculous. Wage war? What sort of idiot would declare war against werewolves? And for what reason would he fight them? But then, according to my vision he would order me executed for just being a sorceress. So that kind of man, the kind that Lord Popov is, that’s the sort of man who would fight werewolves.
The maid rests a hand on my upper arm studying a small scar I got from falling when I was a child. “Are you really a magicker?”
“I…” I begin but pause. If the only reason I am able to enter this building and even see Popov is because everyone thinks I am a magicker. Well, maybe I should stick to that story then. “Er, yes.”
“So, you’ve been there to the Academy of Magickers? To the city made of stone?”
“Of course,” I say. In truth I had forgotten that magickers needed to go to the academy to even earn themselves the name. Magic is so much more complicated than sorcery, you need to learn spells, and practice, and hone your ability. With sorcery it is instinctual, a bonding between you and the demigod as you draw your power from them. Sorcery is a relationship of sorts, trust that the demigod’s power will do what you need it to do. Because while you control most of the sorcery, there is a portion at all times that the demigod still has full control over, even as you funnel it through your body, they control what it does.
It’s that portion of sorcery, that lack of control that scares people. But what they don’t understand is that while most demigods are evil, some aren’t. Well, one isn’t. The Lady of Dawn would never use her magic to harm people, whereas her siblings would only use their magic to harm people.
Still sorcery is easier than spells, it works for you, bending to your will. Magic you have to cajole and convince. Sorcery you command.
“What is it like?” the maid continues, finally moving on from my scar. She circles me and I try not to squirm.
“It’s huge. And very stone. You know… it’s just like the legends say it is.”
“How marvelous,” the girl breathes.
We lapse into silence as we continue on with the rest of the inspection. Finally, it is done and I have been determined bite free and put on my clothes again. I’m extremely thankful that Laellina and I didn’t run into any wolves while traveling at night. Apparently one bite is all it takes to lose an audience with Lord Popov.
What a paranoid man.
“Satisfied that I’m not half wolf?” I ask, arching my brow.
The maid curtsies, “I shall tell the guards that you are human… I mean...” she trails off, her skin going rosy like that of the other guard.
“Yeah, don’t tell them I’m human. They probably wouldn’t believe you.” I wink at the maid and stride out of the chamber, adjusting the leather tie holding my white hair up. “Hello, boys, I’m ready to see Lord Popov now.”
Stanislas glares at me and harumphs but the nicer guard nods and gestures ahead of him. “Right this way.” I follow him down the hallway and try my best to keep my eyes from bulging out of my skull. I had no idea that wooden structures could be so grand. But this building has arches and engraved walls, all made out of a very dark wood. It’s beautiful. And quite frankly huge, it’s a stark contrast to the shabby houses outdoors. I wonder what the townsfolk think of the fact that their lord lives in a building like this whereas they live in houses so small three could fit in this entry hall… with elbow room.
I can’t imagine they like it very much.
The hallway branches into three separate corridors, but I am led down the one on the right. Flags with the same crest line the walls. I study the crest more closely, squinting at the swirling embellishes until I finally figure out what it is. It is hard to determine at first because so many of the golden embroidered lines are much longer and curved than the image needs, with extra half circles here and there. But now that I see it I can’t unsee it. It’s a pike, with a wolf’s head on it.
Actually, it’s probably a werewolf’s head.
This Popov fellow sure seems to have quite an ax to grind against werewolves.
Suppose I can’t exactly blame him seeing as if my vision comes true, well… it’s a werewolf that will kill Lord Popov. But what started this feud?
The guard opens the door to the right. “Lord Popov is inside; I suggest you stay as unthreatening as possible and keep that sheathed.” He gestures at the sword at my side. “The master has been on edge of late.”
I arch my brow. “He’s going to hire an unthreatening magicker?”
“He would probably have his personal guards kill a magicker he deems too threatening.”
“He’s mad,” I whisper, having the presence of mind to at least keep my voice down. I don’t know why I’m surprised. My vision proved the very same thing.
The man shrugs. “Never said he wasn’t. But at least he pays well.” Then he turns and strides down the hall, leaving me standing in the open doorway with a lot of second guesses.
“Who’s there?” someone inside demands. I recognize that voice. I grimace, almost feeling the pain bite into my cheek and then step into the room.
I glance around the room. Hazy light filters through the windows along the walls, two bookshelves sit across from each other and a desk sits in the back of the room. I recognize Lord Popov immediately sitting at the desk. Five men are scattered around the room. Two at the door I just walked through. One at a door in the back of the room, next to the desk, and two in front of the bookshelves.
I count five guards total. The same number of guards from my vision. Are these the men that rough me up? The ones that he orders to kill me?
Is one of these men the one who wielded the knife that almost took my life?
It must be cold in this room, because I start shaking.
“Azern, sir,” I say, stepping in, with a bow of my head. I keep my hands clasped in front of me. I’m wondering now what sort of things would set a man like this off. And how to make it so that he won’t deem me a threat and order me killed. “I hear you’re hiring magickers.”
He relaxes somewhat. “So, you are a magicker?”
“What did you think I was?” I grimace, wondering if my tone was too snippy.
“A sorceress, maybe something worse.”
Is it really so uncommon for a Higher Elf to choose to be a magicker? Do they really all choose to be sorcerers? Or are these people just superstitious?
I think it’s a healthy balance of both probably.
“Of course not,” I reply with a smile. My name is the same name as a demigod, but Popov didn’t seem to catch that. Not a lot of people do. Some people are so afraid of the demigods they refuse to know anything about them. Their names, what they are known for. Most just know them by their titles. If they even know that.
For most people it is just enough to know that demigods are evil.
Or at least that’s what the priests told me. At the time I had wondered if they were being slightly bitter, but now I don’t doubt it.
Popov looks me over with scrutiny. “Are you a good magicker?”
“I would say so.”
He presses his lips together. “I wish I could afford to be picky, but unfortunately there seem to be fewer magickers in this area than I would like. And I must have an edge on those beasts.” He slams his fist into the table. I jump and he leans back into his seat seeming to get himself back under control. “Do you have any firsthand experience with werewolves?”
“Only read about them, sir.” Or seen them in visions of the future…
“That’s a pity. So few people have experiences with werewolves. And so few of my men survived the…” he shudders. “I need an edge and if magic will provide that edge then I must hire who I must to gain access to it.”
“Are you saying I’m hired?”
Popov nods to the guard standing by the door in the back of the room. “Go and join the other magicker. You two shall be working together in this so I suggest you get well acquainted.”
My heart rate picks up at the mention of the other magicker. I can’t actually know that it is Magnar. When the guard opens the door, I practically race through the door in my haste to leave behind Popov. I find myself in an even smaller study than before. Perhaps it is the half a dozen bookshelves that line the wall that make it seem more closed in. Or the table in the center of the room, much larger than the desk, covered in scrolls and books. A man is the only occupant of the room, standing at the desk, hunched over as if deeply contemplating something on the table.
“Why are you bothering me again?” he grouses, not bothering to look back.
That voice… that shockingly light head of hair, the color of the sun rather than snow.
“Magnar,” I breathe out. At least I hope it is Magnar. I suppose I shouldn’t assume that any blond man is Magnar.
He turns and glances back at me, giving me a full view of his face, and proving my hunch correct. His handsome features twist as his brow lifts. “Yes, but how would you know that?”
I open my mouth then close it. “I’m Azern,” I say instead.
“Like the demigod?” the furrow in his eyebrow deepens.
I press my lips together. So, he can actually identify the demigods by their names more than just their titles. He clearly knows more about sorcery than Popov did. I will have to be careful around him.
“We’re supposed to be working together,” I say without bothering to reply.
“You’re being awfully cryptic. Not giving the best first impression I must say. I hope if we are to work together you will stop being so…”
“Mysterious?” I ask with a wink. “Well, if you want to get to know me better, I would suggest you tell me more about you. That is usually how these things work, right?”
“I was going to say suspicious.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the table he had been hunched over. He looks me over. Carefully. I cross my own arms and refuse to squirm under his scrutiny. “So, you’re a magicker?”
“Yes,” I say, nodding perhaps a bit too emphatically. Maybe he will trust me more if he doesn’t think I am a sorceress.
One eyebrow rises, arching above the other. “Where’s your spellbook?”
I look down at my belt as if half expecting a spellbook to materialize there. It does not. I had forgotten that magickers not only needed to go to the academy to learn their craft, they must also write down their spells so that they can remember it. There are a lot of things about magic that I don’t know, but I’ve been told I would go mad if I dabbled in it so I tend to avoid it like it’s a plague. “I don’t need one,” I say, shrugging and trying my best to sound nonchalant. I tap my temple. “This doesn’t forget a thing.”
He heaves a sigh and shakes his head. “Lord Popov really hired you?”
“I’m afraid so, you’re stuck with me now. Between you and me, he probably would have hired a frost ogre if it wandered through his door and convinced him it could protect him from werewolves.”
Magnar huffs a laugh and then pauses, looking mildly surprised. His eyes narrow. “You’re funny.”
“Is that an accusation?”
“Merely an observation.” He jerks his head toward the table. “Well, all right, Azern, if we are going to really be working together, I suppose I should fill you in on what our task is. No point in doing all the work myself if there’s someone here to help. And if I have to suffer through your company, I might as well make you useful.”
“You’re expecting me to work? Now you’re the funny one,” I mutter as I step forward as Magnar turns around. I catch the ghost of a smile before he covers it up and leans forward, bracing his hands on the table. Even stooped over he is slightly taller than me.
And Lowlanders are supposedly the shorter of the human clans.
“How much do you know about what is going on?” he asks, tapping his finger against the desk.
“Not much I’m afraid, just that the pay is good. In truth, Popov treated me a bit like that frost ogre we mentioned earlier.”
“How just like him to just shove you off on me.”
I shrug. “Well, fill me in, I’m a quick study so I shouldn’t make you have to repeat things. Too much.”
“At all, if your memory is as good as you say,” he says, glancing at me out of his eye. “Very well, as I’m sure you heard, we’re up against werewolves.”
“I did hear that, yes. Hard not to. If Popov is so terrified of werewolves, why does he wage an open war against them?”
“I think the open war is actually why he is so afraid. I think it went back to some sort of land dispute. A pack of werewolves lived on his land and he didn’t like it. He tried to drive them off and failed. Then they retaliated. Attacked his family home in the countryside, heard it was pretty much a carnage. Now Popov is terrified, but more than that, he’s convinced one of his men has betrayed him. That the werewolves shouldn’t have been able to get in like they had unless someone had let them in.” Magnar looks at me. “The back door was left unlocked that night.”
“Someone could have forgotten,” I reply with a shrug.
“Perhaps, but Popov believes it was a betrayal and since all of the servants were killed in the attack, their living accommodations were right next to the back door as I heard, he thinks it was one of the guards who helped get him out.” Magnar shakes his head. “I think he is mad. Why would his guards betray him only to drag him to safety? Anyway, currently our task is to question his guards—try to determine who can be trusted.”
“Seriously?” I ask with a snort.
Magnar turns away from the list as I look over it, realizing that it is a list of names. His eyes are dull and humorless. “I consider it a waste of my talents as well, but I’m paid to do what Popov tells me to. Which is currently this. Apparently, I am the only one he can trust since I was hired after that fateful night. Well, now it’s we.”
We, I sort of like the sound of that.
Magnar sighs and straightens, grabbing the list of names and rolling it up. “I’ve already looked into as many backgrounds and family names as I could with the resources I had, but there is only so far a census can get me, and nothing directly ties them to this werewolf pack, so now we have to get chummy with them.” His voice drips with disgust at that. “I hope you are better at being friends than I am.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“In case you didn’t guess already. Popov has a lot of guards. Even with the number that died in the attack, well, this is a steep order.”
“Naturally,” I grumble. But if anything, it will help me to get a better idea about Magnar. And him a better idea about me. And maybe just maybe, I’ll find some way to get him to trust me enough to listen to me when I warn him about my vision, and what happens, and the werewolves.