A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (39 page)

Ya think!?

Chapter 14
Rescue

Fear for his ally turned Eric into a insomniac. He wouldn't
have gotten any sleep at all if Hasina hadn't cast a sleeping spell when he wasn't
looking.

She caught me!

Regaining consciousness and fearing the answer, he wriggled
his wrists. They moved freely. He opened his eyes and he was in the infirmary,
not a mad scientist lair; lying in a hospital cot, not on an examining board.
Both were such an enormous relief, he fell back against the sheets. They were
crisp and soft, and the room was peaceful and quiet. His bridgehouse was often
a stage for drunkards and their awful singing. It almost made him want to get
sick just to sleep here.

In the bed next to him was Culmus, tucked in and fast
asleep.
Rest: check.
Breakfast was almost over by the time he arrived in
the mess hall. The remaining mercenaries were cleaning their plates and their
eyes followed him as he filled two of his own. Out of shame, he cast Dark Veil.
It was a remarkably natural gesture.

If he's here, then he's not helping his team . . .

Preposterous! They are amazed you gave up your slice of
the fee to sleep in. Eat. You have a more important job ahead of you than the
menial drudge work of novices.

With plates in hand, he returned to the Infirmary to find
Culmus still asleep. He asked the healer on duty who assured him that Culmus
would wake up any minute. Eric smiled mischievously.

It was something his brother did to him every weekend. He
picked up a piece of bacon and laid it across Culmus's face between his nose
and upper lip. Culmus's hand drifted over it. Sleepily he pushed it in his
mouth. His face flushed and his eyes shot open. Eric handed him the glass of
milk he needed to wash out the five alarm hot sauce.

“Morning,” the trickster said. “How do you feel?”

Culmus chugged the glass and finished Eric's before he
responded. “I should gut you for that.”

“How do you feel?” Eric repeated.

 “Not hung over . . .” He touched his forehead and rotated
his limbs. “Why am I not hung over?”

“Because you risked your life last night on an instant cure.”

His hands were squeezing Eric's throat before he move. “What
did Hasina do to me?”

“P-Patic-cion ur-urine . . .” He wriggled and the grasp
tightened. “N-nothing . . .p-permanent . . .”

Culmus glared. “If you were anyone else, I'd snap your neck,
but Uncle Basilard likes you.” He let go. “You'd better have a good
explanation.”

“I can find Kasile and—” Boing! Culmus bounced off Eric's barrier
and back to the bed.

It only diminished the warrior's evil eye. “Where is she!?
Tell me!”

Eric held up the handkerchief. “I don't know, but this will
lead us to her.”

Darkness; nothing but solid and empty darkness everywhere.
Unlike in Tasio's mine, he remained calm. About one minute later, the full
sights and sounds and smells of the Infirmary returned.

“You better keep your word,” Culmus said. “I have friends
that can send you to the Abyss.”

“Uh . . . it'll work . . .don't worry.”
What's that about?

A weird experience; blinked and plugged his ears and clogged
his nose at the same time.
It is nothing.
I suppose you could be
sleepy. You did not get as much sleep last night as you should have.

“We'll need food, and water too.” Culmus told him as he
strapped on his gauntlets. “There's no telling how far away they are . . . do
you have a weapon besides that staff?” Eric shook his head. “Then we'll need to
get you one.” Culmus finished the final touch, securing his sword to his back,
and marched out of the sick bay. “Come on!”

First, they gathered food and water. Since they weren't on
an official mission, they couldn't use the guild's resources and the costs came
out of their own pockets. Fortunately, Culmus was a Regular with deep pockets.
He even bought Eric a dagger at the Arsenal Lodge.

“Here.” He tossed the sheath at his companion. “Hide it
somewhere.” Eric caught the weapon and fumbled before obtaining a firm grip. He
looked himself over for a good place and paused.

“Isn't there a law against having a concealed weapon? Or
having one without a permit?”

“Look around, Eric,” Culmus said in reply.

The two mercenaries were not the only ones in the shop. A
troll browsed the spear aisle and a pair of tiger demons examined a collection
of clubs. At the back of the room, a company of elves were selling enchanted
weapons, and next to them, a human man helped his son reach the wooden swords.

“That troll could smash our human bones with less difficulty
than a mace and those tigers have claws as good as daggers. Elves are born with
a breed of magic that no other race possesses and I bet that man has a
formidable spirit. Then there's you, a mage who can summon fire. Tell me, Eric,
are they concealing permit-less weapons?”

Eric shook his head.

“Then there are the ever-present monsters. One step beyond
the safety of the walls and you could be attacked by a savage creature that
cares nothing for sapient laws.
Everyone
knows self-defense and many
carry weapons. Regulating hand-helds is pointless.”

Ax and his son clapped.

“Well said,” the blacksmith said to the warrior. “Your
father would be proud to see your oratory skills haven't deteriorated.”

Culmus sniffed and put a hand over his eyes. “Thank you . .
.Uncle Ax.”

Eric looked back and forth. “Uncle?”

“Honorary,” Ax clarified. “My last shop was in Stratos
before . . . well . . .I've sure you learned that in school.” Eric nodded. “When
wall runes fail, it's not a pretty sight. Are you buying that?”

In his left hand, Eric held the dagger. In his right, he
held a vest. It was light, sleeveless, and zipped down the front. On the
outside, the manufacturer’s name and crest were sewn. On the inside, runes
protected its wear against silence curses.
“No situation is more dangerous
for a mage than losing their magecraft.”
The phrase was repeated at the
start of every chapter in Dengel's book.

“Yes.”

He paid for the Mage's Freedom, slipped it on, and zipped it
up; a perfect fit.

Back on the street, Eric pulled out the handkerchief. It
pulsed slowly yet steadily. They walked to the port in Sailor town and the
pulse decreased. As they traveled back east to Artisan Town the pulsation sped
up and then decreased again when they arrived at the East Gate. They walked
south to Scholar Town and then North to Merchant Town with the same results.

Are you sure this thing works?

Of course!

But if the pulsing only drops off at the city limits then
it says Kasile's still in the city.

Then she is still in the city.

“According to the handkerchief, Kasile's still in the city.”

“No way! If she was still in the city, someone would have
found her.”

A second sweep confirmed Dengel's statement.
Kasile is
here . . . somewhere.
North, South, East, West; the handkerchief pulsed at
the same rate in all four.

They returned to the Red Town of Sword and Staff for lunch.
Culmus suggested Sieg's Bistro. Like much of the town, it was warrior themed. The
entire staff knew Culmus and some of them even bowed their heads as he passed.
He was seated immediately and their server asked if he wanted “his usual.” It
was ready remarkably quick; almost as though they made it ahead of time. Eric's
curiosity got the better of him and he asked about this special treatment.
Culmus responded by slamming his fist on the table.

“We searched all morning and found nothing!”

“uh . . .What if she was not only still in the city . . .
but still in the palace?”

Culmus jabbed his drumstick at Eric. “Now I
know
you're talking crazy. There is
no way
the Black Cloaks stashed her in
the palace. It was searched first.”

Eric swallowed. “How come?”

Culmus ripped off a bite. “Because it was the last place
they thought she'd be.”

“They looked in the last place first?”

“Yeah, of course.”

 Somehow, that kind of logic made sense.

 “If not the palace what about
underneath
it
?
Catacombs, sewers, somewhere really deep?”

“I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go into the sewers.”

They paid, left the restaurant and found a manhole into
Roalt's sewer system. It was sealed by a charmed lid and a rune lock. Culmus
held his guild badge above the rune and both glowed. The bolts released and the
manhole opened.

Culmus ignored the ladder and jumped straight in. Eric took
his time. The walls of the sewer were cracked in places and covered in
graffiti. The floor was covered in Nature's own; tendrils of glowing green
slime. The ladder terminated on solid ground, but three feet away was a river.
Eric could smell the waste of countless people drifting by.

He had never seen such a dreary, slimy, creepy place. Except
for the Yacian Caverns, but that was a different kind of creepy. The caverns
were “bogeyman” creepy: you looked into every shadow for a monster. The sewers
were “ghost story” creepy: something to scare your younger brother into wetting
his pants. By the river's bright green glow, he saw skeletons lying against the
wall.

“Scared?”

“No!”

“It's all right. Monsters live down here despite all
attempts to get rid of them.”

Eric reached for his staff. “Are they strong?”

“Like cockroaches. Is it working any better?”

Eric didn't need to check, he could feel it. The more he
puzzled, the more it made sense. Kasile was force fed awful tasting water;
sewer water. “She's here.”

“Excellent!” Culmus shouted and his joy echoed off the
tunnel walls. He pivoted and pointed to the far end. “Onward!” He ran across
patches of sunlight to the far door.

 Little of it reached this place and yet mold and fungi
clung to the walls and ceiling and grass poked through the floor. The stream of
glowing green slime followed them all the way.

“Why is the sewer water glowing?”

“The water's charmed so no one falls in. It was Kasile's
idea, you know.” His eyes gained a far-off look. “Always thinking of others . .
.” He wavered and his left foot stepped over the slime.

“Watch it!” Eric shouted. Culmus froze mid-step, wobbled,
and then stood firmly at the edge of the sea. “It would be ironic if explaining
why Kasile charmed the slime made you sink into it.”

“Yeah . . .”

A minute of silence was all Eric could stand. He
had
ask.

“How did you two meet anyway?” It was a puzzle that bugged
him since the day he first saw them at the palace gates. He couldn't think of
any way other than her hiring him for a mission, but they seemed too close for
that.

“We've known each other for five years.” Culmus replied
softly, the far-off look back in his eyes. “Our families have been friends for
ages.”

“Really? Mercenary and royal families as long time friends?”

Culmus paused. “I am
not
a mercenary. I am a noble.”

Eric paused. “A warrior noble at the southern border of the
country that is famous for its dislike of the capital because its fire imagery
is too close to chaos. This bothers them because their community is closer in
culture to the nearby country of Ozid, which values law, structure, continuity,
and other Order based virtues instead of the innovation and trickery prized by
Chaos because it is populated solely by orcs. One hundred years ago Squlom the
Heavy rebelled against your ancestor to force Stratos leave Ataidar for Ozid
because he believed they were better off with the orcs.”

Culmus stared.

“I spent nine days in a library.”

“Be that as it may . . .” Culmus said. “My family is still
one of the Four Pillars of Ataidar. I knew her from a meeting I went to with my
parents, though I didn't really know her until five years ago.”

“Which comes back to my question: how?”

“She welcomed me; took care of me; assured me that Stratos
would rise again. She's so kind and thoughtful . . . and beautiful . . .”

Eric face-palmed.

In the next room was a ladder leading deeper into the sewer.
It might have once been black iron but now it was stained green with slime.
Eric flinched at the thought of touching it; they were bound to feel nasty and
there was the chance he'd slip. It made him wish he'd sprung for gloves at the
Arsenal Lodge. Without a word, Culmus climbed down and Eric followed. The
noticeable increase in the handkerchief's pulsation pushed him forward.

Without the occasional breeze, it smelled even worse on the
second level. Yet his nose acclimatized and he ceased to smell anything at all,
or maybe it just died. There was also a light Fog here. It had a pleasant taste
to counterbalance the horrible smell of sewage.

“Be careful. Here there be monsters.”

Eric unslung his staff. “Have you been down here before?”

“A few times. Missions, training, . . . dares . . .you know.”

There was no stone walkway here. The two mercenaries trudged
through ankle deep sewage beside the much deeper river. Eric grimaced with
every squishy step. One time he slipped and fell on his back.
I'll never get
these stains out
. . .
or the smell for that matter
. However, he had
bigger concerns.