Overmage, page 10
“Perhaps, but we can still burn the church down and kill any priests we find.” Khashair turned toward the exit. “Let’s go!”
They emerged from the palace but found no soldiers waiting to resume the fight. It seemed they could learn if given a sufficiently clear lesson. On the landing field, the dragon ship still burned away, great clouds of black smoke rising into the clear air. So far, destroying it was the only truly useful thing he’d done. And he hardly counted it valuable enough to make up for the demon’s loss.
The church waited just the other side of the palace grounds. Khashair marched at the head of his little force, an invisible shield in place should anyone take a shot at him. Not that he’d seen any archers, but in enemy territory, precautions had to be taken.
No one tried to stop them and soon enough they reached the foot of the stairs leading up to the church doors. Inside they found the pews empty and a single priest waiting near the altar. The young man couldn’t have been more than twenty.
“Welcome, everyone, to the First Church of The One God. I’m afraid you missed the sermon, but if you wish to pray, you’re free to do so.” The priest’s voice quavered a little, but overall he seemed calm enough considering nearly a hundred armed men had barged into the church.
“I’d like to have a word with the pope,” Khashair said.
“My apologies, sir, but His Holiness had to leave on important business. I’m the only one here, but if you tell me the problem, I’ll do my best to help.”
Khashair wanted to kill him just so he wouldn’t have to listen to his pious stupidity any longer. A simple spell confirmed that the church was indeed empty save the obviously expendable fellow speaking to them.
“When will the pope return?” Khashair asked.
“No one tells me things like that, sir. His Eminence, Cardinal Rufious, told me to welcome anyone that came and to tend to things here until they returned. Beyond that, I know nothing.”
“That is unfortunate.”
Khashair pointed and a blast of lightning blew the man to smithereens.
“Do you wish to burn the church down? I’m perfectly willing to oblige, but I fear we’ll find no churchmen to add to the pyre.”
A wave of depression washed over Khashair, but he received no other answer.
His hunt, it seemed, had accomplished little beyond showing off his power and proving to his future subjects that they had no hope of ever defeating him.
“I suppose that’s enough fun for today. Back to the tower, everyone.”
He opened a portal and his soldiers and golems marched through without complaint. Not the start he’d hoped for and the loss of Gomo stung, but all in all he thought he’d made a point. Eventually he would find the emperor and then he’d make another, greater point.
Chapter 17
Despite Joran’s desire to set out as soon as possible, Stoneheart insisted that they spend two days at the fort getting used to the elevation. Though well below the peaks, the fort was several thousand feet higher than Tiber. Stoneheart assured them that they’d appreciate the time to acclimate when they started climbing.
Since overriding the person he considered an expert on this sort of thing would be beyond stupid, Joran forced himself to relax, or at least to try and relax. Practicing his new magical abilities in the room he shared with Mia, and out of sight of any overly devout soldiers, did wonders for his nerves.
And now their two days were up. Provisioned and ready, they set out for the mountains jutting up in the distance. Joran had made a map based on everything he’d read, but details were sketchy at best and he doubted its accuracy. Stoneheart had tucked it in his belt pouch after saying he spent the last day studying and memorizing what little detail it held.
“Ready, Lord Den Cade?” Stoneheart asked when Joran had finished adjusting his cloak.
Joran glanced at Mia who nodded then at Grub who gave a nod of his own. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get this show on the road.”
Stoneheart waved at the soldiers on duty at the gate and they swung the heavy doors open. Unlike a proper fortress, the border fort only had wooden doors with a beam to hold them shut. Stone walls and a portcullis would’ve been nice, but at the edge of the empire it didn’t make sense. In the event of an invasion, a wooden fort would be easier to retake or more likely burn down.
They headed west along a snow-covered dirt path far too rough to be called a road. In fact, it made the rutted coach road to Stello Province look positively smooth in comparison. They needed to travel ten miles or so before turning a little north. Eight of those miles would be through the Land of the Blood Drinkers. There was no indication of settlements this close to the border, but as Ramirus said, they didn’t make patrols outside the empire.
“What do you think we’ll find?” Mia asked.
“A big hole full of Black Bile, hopefully with a deeply asleep dragon at the bottom. That’s my best-case scenario.”
“What’s your worst-case scenario?” Grub asked from his position at the rear of the column.
“That the dragon wakes up as soon as we get close and kills everyone and everything in the empire.”
“Is that likely?” Mia asked.
“I doubt it, but I don’t actually know. I don’t know what the overmages did to wake it up the first time. I don’t think they just showed up. Given what we know, they probably tried to enslave it. We are definitely not going to try that. Just a quick peek to confirm it’s there and we’re gone. Who knows, maybe it’ll even be grateful to have some guards to keep anyone from bothering it.”
Grub barked a laugh and Joran had to admit that his scenario was pretty farfetched. Still, if he could think of the potential bad things, why not balance it out with some good?
Once they left the vicinity of the fort, the path entered a stand of tall evergreens. The shadows immediately made it feel ten degrees colder. Joran shivered and imagined all manner of enemies hiding just out of sight.
They marched for hours, seeing nothing more threatening than an annoyed squirrel that barked at them from the branches. An hour after lunch they left the forest and started across an open plain covered with six inches of snow. Stoneheart turned north, toward the mountains.
Joran shaded his eyes. Was there smoke rising from them?
“Is that smoke in the mountains?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. I think the source might be lower,” Mia said. “The mountains don’t look like the kind of place you’d want to build a village. The dragon, you think?”
Joran shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Might be a foundry,” Stoneheart said without looking back. “If there’s a mine, they could be processing the ore.”
Joran smiled to himself. Speculating was a fun way to make the time go by quicker. Not having anyone trying to kill them at the moment was nice as well. It couldn’t last of course. Nothing good seemed to lately.
As if the universe was listening, half a mile later the snow crunched and a dozen figures armed with spears stood in a circle all around them.
Mia instantly drew her sword and shifted to protect Joran. Stoneheart had his axe out a second later and Grub was only a fraction slower drawing his shortsword.
After a tense few seconds without bloodshed, Joran took a moment to study the new arrivals. They wore heavy leather pants and shirts made from animal skins with the tails still attached. Their skin was lighter than an imperial’s. Some strange designs had been painted on their skin with red paint. Joran shifted his gaze to the ether but saw no magic around them.
How had they snuck up on them with no cover or camouflage?
Since they couldn’t just stand here forever, he said, “Hello. My name is Joran Den Cade. Can you understand me?”
The men stared at him but didn’t speak. They also didn’t point their spears at him, so that was a good sign. The tricky part would be getting a translation potion out of his kit without them thinking he planned something aggressive.
With exaggerated slowness, Joran took his kit off his shoulder and opened the top.
Still no reaction from the locals.
He took out a vial and downed the contents.
When he felt the magic take hold, he tried again. “Hello.”
Their eyes widened and they all started talking far too quickly for him to understand even with the translation effect.
“Please, could you slow down? And maybe just one of you speak at a time?”
They fell silent but now they were frowning. Had he committed some kind of cultural error? No one knew anything about these people, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility.
Finally, one of them, the tallest and most muscular, said, “What brings you to our land?”
“We’re just passing through. My team and I seek to explore the mountains.” Should he take a chance? “There was an eruption long ago and we wish to see the caldera.”
“That place is taboo. You will find nothing in the pit save evil.”
Certainly sounded like the dragon was still there. “I understand, but enemies of my people seek to wake that evil and unleash it on our home. My job is to confirm what’s there and see what can be done to keep anyone else from gaining access. Can you help us?”
All twelve of them started jabbering in a blur of words. Joran didn’t even try to listen. How the hell did they understand anything the others were saying?
“What’s going on?” Mia asked.
“I’m not sure, but it doesn’t look like they want to fight. With any luck we might secure ourselves a guide through the mountains. At the very least it seems they know about the caldera, though they made no mention of the dragon, only that evil lived there.”
She whispered, “Do you trust them?”
Keeping his voice equally low he said, “Not especially, but this is a foreign land. We have no power here and if we have to fight our way through The One God only knows how many people, we’re doomed to failure before we even begin. Best to try talking first and hopefully get the lay of the land.”
At last, the babble died down and the leader or spokesman or whatever he was said, “We will take you to our wiseman. He will be better able to explain the danger. Follow us.”
He turned and started toward the smoke Joran spotted earlier. His companions fell in behind him. Everyone finally put their weapons away and they followed along. No more words were spoken on either side and near sunset they arrived at a village of one-room log cabins. The smoke came from many chimneys, and piles of wood stacked nearly to the roofs sat behind each building. One cabin, the largest of the bunch, waited in the middle of the village. Their guides led them to it and one of them knocked.
When the door opened, the oldest man Joran had ever seen stood in the doorway. His face was a mass of wrinkles and his blue eyes were sunk deep into his skull. Not a single hair grew on his face or head. Despite the heat blasting out of the cabin, he wore a heavy fur blanket over his shoulders.
While Joran and his companions waited, a thirteen-way conversation took place. The cacophony gave him a headache. Though that might have also been from his potion trying to translate so many voices at once.
Their chat was blessedly brief and at last the old man said, “If you seek the Pit of Darkness, I will speak with you. Enter and be welcome.”
Joran bowed and led the way in. The heat felt wonderful, but he suspected they’d be sweating in five minutes. There was no furniture in the solitary chamber beyond a few cushions littering the floor near the blazing fireplace.
The old man sat on one of the cushions and motioned for Joran and his companions to join him. When everyone had gotten as comfortable as siting on the floor allowed, Joran said, “Thank you for speaking with us. Though we’re neighbors, I know little about your people and culture. I hope I did nothing to offend.”
“We are not easily offended. Though you trespassed on our tribe’s land, when confronted by our warriors, you showed restraint and did not attack. That is well. I would hear your purpose in your own words.”
Joran gave him an edited version of the last six months. “The dragon we fear sleeps in what you call the Pit of Darkness. It is powerful and evil. We hope to keep what happened in the east from happening here.”
“All right-thinking beings desire that the beast of darkness stays asleep forever. That your enemy is mad enough to seek to wake it tells me all I need to know. What can I do to help?”
Joran smiled. “Have you been to the pit? If you could confirm the dragon’s presence, that would save us a lot of walking.”
The old man wheezed a laugh. “No one goes to the pit. Only death and madness live there. I seek neither.”
“Is there anything you can tell me about it?”
“I can tell you what our legends say. Bear in mind that they are only legends. The truth is often seen between the lines.”
“We would be honored to hear your legends.”
The wiseman took a deep breath. “Long ago, it is said that a great beast flew to this land seeking rest. It landed and lay down. To ensure it wouldn’t be disturbed, it raised the mountains over its bed. All was peaceful until one day many years ago the earth trembled with the beast’s rage. A roar shook the air. Strong warriors wept and threw away their spears. Children refused to sleep for days. No one spoke for weeks.
“In time, the world went silent again. A great shaman asked a mighty condor to fly over the mountains. The bird returned and spoke of the Pit of Darkness. A great lake of black liquid filled it. When the bird had told all it knew, it fell over dead.
“The great shaman declared that no one should approach the pit. And so we haven’t in hundreds of years.”
Joran nodded and wiped sweat from his brow. The wiseman’s legend matched up with what he’d read about the eruption. The black stuff in the lake had to be bile. Whether the dragon still slept at the bottom of it, he had no idea. Assuming the condor died from bile poisoning, they’d have to be careful not to get too close.
“You have fallen silent, Joran Den Cade,” the wiseman said. “I would hear your thoughts.”
“I’d like to sort them out myself. Since no one knows if the dragon is still there, I guess we’ll need to go and see for ourselves. Of course, if it’s sleeping at the bottom of the lake, we still won’t know if it’s actually there. If we can’t confirm the dragon’s presence, I won’t know how to advise the emperor. Given these facts, I’m not sure what I should do.”
“Your situation is difficult. If your enemies seek to wake the beast, who knows what it might do this time. My tribe might be in danger as well. If you choose to continue on your journey, I will send a band to guide you and smooth your passage through the other tribes’ lands. All must be warned of the danger anyway.”
Joran lowered his gaze in appreciation. “We are grateful for your generosity. Is there somewhere we might sleep? The journey has been a long one.”
“There is a cabin we use when emissaries from other tribes visit. You are welcome to it. Food will be brought later.”
Joran stood and bowed. “Thank you for your hospitality, sir.”
“Ospak.” The wiseman stood as well. “We have shared stories and names. You will be considered a friend of the village until you do something to prove you are unworthy. My grandson will guide you to the guest cabin.”
Ospak led the way to the door and opened it. A moment later the same group of twelve men came jogging up. A rapid exchange of words ensued and the next thing Joran knew they were being led to another cabin, this one considerably smaller than the first and equally devoid of furniture. Looked like they’d be sleeping on the floor tonight. On the plus side, they had a fireplace and a roof over their head.
After their guides left to find them a meal, Grub got a fire going and they all gathered around. Joran told the dwarves everything Ospak said. When he finished, he added, “All thoughts are welcome.”
“I can’t figure out why they’re being so helpful,” Grub said. “We come from the empire. They have to know it’s only a matter of time before we send an army to conquer them.”
“Do they?” Mia asked. “Given how much we know about them, I figure it’s entirely possible they know equally little about us.”
“I suspect Mia is right, but that doesn’t make Grub’s point completely wrong. We are total strangers. Inviting us into their village, offering us a meal and guides, it all seems like too much too soon. At a bare minimum, I plan to check everything they bring for poison. Assuming the food checks out, I’m willing to give the guides the benefit of the doubt. Stoneheart, you’ve been awfully quiet. Nothing to add?”
“I’m a soldier, my lord. Dealing with things like this…” Stoneheart made a vague gesture at the cabin, but Joran knew what he meant. “I’m not qualified. If we need to fight our way out of here, I’m your man. Otherwise, I’m content to follow your lead.”
“Fair enough. At a minimum I want to take a look at the caldera. My fear is that the location combined with the miasma from so much Black Bile will make putting a force in place impossible.”
A knock ended the conversation. Mia drew her sword and stepped to one side of the door while Stoneheart went to answer it. One of the villagers Joran hadn’t seen before, a girl in her late teens he guessed, carried a steaming iron pot by a loop handle in one hand and a jug in the other.
“Thank you,” Joran said. “My friend will take it from there.”
She held the containers out and Stoneheart grabbed the iron hoop. Once he had both items she turned and hurried away. This was more what Joran had expected. She seemed properly nervous about total strangers in her village.
Mia closed the door and Stoneheart set the pot and jug on the floor. Joran dug a pouch of upgraded revealing powder out of his kit. In addition to highlighting magic, it also glowed a different color when it touched something poisonous.
He took the lid off the pot and his mouth watered at the savory scent of stew. He really hoped there was no poison as it looked delicious. A quick sprinkle revealed nothing. The food was safe, now for the drink. The powder said it was all good.
