A Dead God's Tear (The Netherwalker Trilogy) (9 page)

For all his smiling, the man was a shrewd business man. Marcius realized long ago that by making them feel at home and by being pe
rsonable, the owner ensured they’d come back
.
The familiar faces that he saw at the tables served as testament. Navigating the tables with unexpected dexterity for such a large man, Taylor led them to their usual seat, tucked comfortably underneath an overhang against the wall.

Nodding their thanks, they sat down, and Taylor let them know that he would be sending over a barmaid whenever they were ready
.
A smart man, Marcius reaffirmed. “So Marc, tell me what’ve you been up to?” Jared asked after the owner had left.

Marcius filled him in, glossing over a few details, such as his dream about the wyvrr, and pausing a few times as Jared asked a few questions or to clarify things. When he finished, Jared let out a low whistle and leaned back on his chair. “
I heard about the woman from my father. The Academy had let him know she would be coming here for business reasons. Gave the old man a right hissy fit, but there was naught he could do. Even he isn’t foolish enough to mess with the Academy. So, she’s a looker, eh?” Jared asked with a twinkle in his eye.

“
Aye she is, but I still don’t trust her totally. You can have a crack at her if you see her, doesn't matter to me.” Jared had a far more accurate reputation of womanizing than Marcius; no doubt this Mage interested him
.
Marcius didn’t think he would be as lucky as he was with the local barmaids and such when it came to Alicia
.

“
Well thank you for the go ahead, but this just goes on to confirm that I need to up my training. Can’t have you going about blowing up everything without a sword to protect your back, eh?” It was a subtle yarn, but there was a trace of seriousness in Jared’s demeanor. “If only my father would get off my yoke about becoming the Sheriff. . . ” Jared had let the comment hang in the air; it was well known that the Sheriff intended for his son to take over when the perils of duty or age made him unable to uphold the law anymore.

“
Dryken damn him, you’ll be celebrated and knighted within a few years, whether he likes it or not!” It was a rather shabby attempt to cheer him up, but Marcius felt it had to be done.

“
Thanks for the kind words, but it seems as if the fates have conspired to keep me trapped within devices out of my control.” The words were very uncharacteristic of him, but he seemed to be giving voice to something he had given much thought. “Ever feel trapped Marcius? That’s how I feel now. I’m bound by duty to do my father’s wishes, even though in my heart I care not for this town. I’d rather be out there, where they need me, protecting small villages from the likes of orcs, goblins, and the ilk! Not protecting a big town from itself, because people are too stupid to get along with each other.”

Marcius knew exactly how he felt. The incident with the elf had given him second thoughts about m
agic, but he felt trapped into learning it. What else was there for him if he turned away? He had no trade skill. The best he could hope for was inheriting his father’s business, an assuredly stagnant position.

The awkward silence extended for an uncomfort
able amount of time before Marcius, clearing his throat, felt compelled to say something, anything. “Heh, at least you don’t have to worry about your soul being stolen, or being strangled by a cloak.”

"Truth, there is much more to magic than the stuff I re
ad about in books, but I think you’ll do okay, Marc. Just be careful about getting involved with wizard politics. One doesn’t have to be a wizard to know that! Also remember, when you’ve become an official wizard, you and I are going to go out and seek our fortunes!”

It was a tried and true rhetoric. “
In order to adventure one must have a cause. I’m already rich, what else is there?” Marcius was teasing. They had gone through the motions of this conversation many times before.

“
Perhaps to free a love? Or perhaps to spread one’s religion? Why even the noblest cause of all? For the excitement of doing things that you’ve only read about? There are many causes to champion one’s resolve Marcius!”

“
Ah, but I have neither love nor am I religious. I’ve no heart to risk my neck either.”

“
What about friendship? Who better to adventure with besides me?” Marcius started grinning. It was hard to argue with one so zealous. With a non-committal shrug, he signaled for a barmaid to serve them.

This particular one was the youn
gest daughter of Taylor, as petite as her father was large. Though unlike her father, she sported a full head of wild red hair, which was currently tied up in a tight bun as she worked. She greeted Marcius and Jared with a warm smile, though Marcius could have sworn her eyes lingered a half second longer on his friend. With a shrug, he ordered a helping of shepherd’s pie, while Jared contented himself with steak. Taylor's daughter scurried off to relay the order, hips swaying with a demure sense of enticement.

"You know Jared, I think she fancies you," Marcius said with a grin.

“Let’s be serious though, Marcius. Would you do it after your training?” Jared prodded, ignoring the jibe.

“
If I succeed, I promise you I will.” Marcius only half meant it. He was starting to grow annoyed at Jared’s pestering.

The answer must have sufficed because Jared broke out in a wide grin, seemingly content. The young barmaid had somehow slipped a pitcher of chilled wine onto the hard wooden table without them noticing. Marcius r
aised an eyebrow, his point regarding the barmaid proven.

Jared poured both Marcius and himself a goblet of wine and raised it in toast. “
To Marcius, future Arch Mage and myself, a mere swordsman!” he said quietly enough to not be overheard, tapping the cup against Marcius’s, the contents gently swirling.

“
To myself, bungling apprentice and Jared, future Sheriff of Rhensford!” Marcius responded coyly, throwing a smile to disarm the glare he received from Jared and to show he was just joking. He sipped lightly on the sweet drink, smacking his lips a bit at the slight tangy aftertaste.

“
So, Marc, did you hear about the war rumors up north?”

Marcius shrugged, “
Bits here and there. Nothing much. Why?”

“
Well, remember that shipment of rare metal that got stolen in the Selenthia woods? Apparently the Morlians are blaming it on the Selenthian elves and calling it the last straw between them. Everyone in Harcourt is saying that the Morlians are preparing for full out war. There have already been skirmishes between the two.”

“
I doubt the elves would do that though,” Marcius pointed out. “They kind of stick to themselves from what I heard. Doing whatever it is that they do in that forest of theirs.”

Jared
’s eyes gleamed, “That’s just it, Marc. Rumors are claiming that they’re just using this as an excuse to invade. Though the Morlians claim it’s just one more thing on a long list of wrongs the elves have done. I think they’re both shady, if you ask me.”

Marcius waved a hand in dismissal. “
That’s far up north and none of our concern. If they want to kill each other, let them.”

“
I hope it never becomes our concern, Marc,” Jared said with a serious expression on his face. “Who knows where the Morlians will stop when they get started.”

All further talk was halted due to the s
teaming platters of food that the barmaid delivered and they quickly dug in, both happy for an excuse to think about their problems. When they were finished, they paid and promptly left, feeling a bit better with full stomachs. It was dark as they emerged from the restaurant, and a bright full moon could be seen in the distance like a watchful shepherd.

They walked aimlessly a bit, content in the silence of each other
’s company. It was amazing what could be said when one shed the clumsiness of words. Jared was the first to break the peace. “Y’know Marc, do you think I could visit you sometime? Would get boring being here all by myself, and I would rather accompany you than those uptight nobles.” His words came out in a rush, as if they were embarrassing to say.

“
Well, I will ask Antaigne. I don’t see why not. Do you know the way?” Marcius asked, thinking of the manner Antaigne would receive the eccentric swordsman. It was a bit difficult to not laugh at the thought, so he bit his lip instead.

“
Not really, but I’ve always been good at directions, just tell me the way.” So Marcius outlined the route, detailing all the traps to look for along the way, which Jared took in with rapt attention. When he was done, Jared nodded and tapped his head. “I got it, expect to see me whenever I can come up with a valid excuse for the Mutt,” he said, referring to his own more derogatory nickname for his father.

“
Aye, okay then, Jared. Got to go home and get some rest. Tomorrow is when I have to head up.”

Jared nodded and went hi
s own way with a final wave and goodbye to Marcius.

With the lack of his friend nearby, his thoughts returned to his situation. Tomorrow would be the day he would get his familiar and become an official apprentice. His familiar! Marcius just remembered and
felt excited at the surge of hope the little creature inspired. The dragon-like animal stood out in his mind and he couldn’t wait to see him. He went back to where he had tethered Ruby, receiving a slight nudge of welcome from the auburn horse.

He went th
e way home at a half gallop, the hooves a rhythmic beat on the hardened stones, excitement was tempered with caution; there was no point in injuring oneself because the darkened streets hid some unseen obstacle after all. The pale moon continued to watch over him as he rode.

Chapter 06

I
t was a darkened room, the only light source being a faintly lit candle that lingered on a musty aged table. Around the table sat three robed figures, their features indiscernible under the hoods that concealed them. They didn’t stir, as if waiting for someone to make the first move.

The largest of the group, his robe a deep azure color in the flickering candlelight, shifted a bit and then spoke. “
Greetings, I have called this meeting to update everyone on the progress.” His voice was raspy, but deep. He waved his hands, etched with the lines of age, over the candle. There was a slight shimmer, then a sleeping form appeared like a mirage, bending which each sputter of the candle.

“
Our pawn has done well,” the blue robed man continued, “The scroll has made its way into the wizard’s apprentice’s hands. After that w-“

“
If I may express my concerns. . . ” the smallest of the three interrupted, “I’m uneasy with the way we are doing this. Why do we need all of this secrecy? We are wizards! We should just
crush
them!” He made a fist and slammed it on the table, making the candle jump and splattering warm wax dangerously close to the other two, a fact that the wizard seemed to realize, his bravado fading as fast as the light emanating from the candle.

“
Think about it, instead of acting like an impertinent first year apprentice for once!” the first snapped back. With another wave of his hand the spilt wax disappeared. The way the other two cowered at the reprimand did much to indicate where the power lay amongst the three of them. “Wizards we may be, but what can we do versus the likes of a united Faelon? It wouldn’t be hard to figure out who is behind it if we just went around blowing up everything in our way. . . at least not yet. . . ”

“
I agree with you.” The last member of the trio, who had remained silent during the exchange, finally decided the time was right to speak.  A very sensual female voice came from the green hooded depths; calm, collected, and above all, dangerous. A flicker of deep red hair could be seen as she moved. “I have not come here to discuss the merits of the current plan. I’m here to be updated.”

The blue wizard nodded as the small wizard sunk back. “
As I was saying, our pawn has performed admirably well. She managed to cast the tracking spell she was tasked with, so our plan is going according to schedule.” His hands intertwined in front of his cloaked face. A large ornate crimson jeweled ring could be seen on one finger.

“
Would the rogue wizard not detect the spell she placed upon his apprentice? It would undermine our entire plan. He is reputed to be fairly powerful after all. He could very well be waiting for us when we come.” The smaller wizard once again chimed in, searching for a way to save face.

“
Aye he would, but not if she removes it right before the apprentice reaches the master. . . ”

“
Wouldn’t that mean. . . physically following him to find out when he reaches where the dwarf lives? That would place her in danger, if she was caught. . . ” The small wizard seemed horrified at the idea, his voice managing to reach an even higher tone.

The big wizard shrugged. “
She is well aware of the dangers. Due to the natures of the enchantments the wizard placed on the boy, anybody with ill intent is unable to follow him, and if questioned, he “forgets” the location of the dwarf’s whereabouts unless he’s a willing participant. It can’t be dispelled either, so if we would just remove it, the dwarf would sense it and react accordingly.” He allowed himself a brief chuckle. “Luckily our own rather naive protégé believes she is helping him to keep the dwarf out of trouble. She knows enough to hopefully dodge the protection Antaigne most likely places en route to his place, but she is not wise enough to see our motives. A perfect pawn: obedient but stupid.”

The news seemed to pacify the other wizard. He leaned contently back in his chair. “
The Inquisitors you requested will take a while to gather. One squad could be covertly gotten, but two squads? That’ll take a bit to sneak discreetly out of the Academy’s watchful eye. Denician’s eye in particular.” He clicked his tongue, as if all this secrecy was beneath him.

“
How long? I want no room for errors, Elrik.”

“
Two to three months minimum,” Elrik stated bluntly, arms open in a gesture of helplessness. “I have to do a lot of shuffling.”

“
Good, when Antaigne is out of the way, that leaves just three more rogue wizards we need to deal with to continue our plans.” The blue hooded wizard stood up and started pacing. “I want you two to oversee the attack on Antaigne. I have a loose end I must tie up once the dwarf is dead.”

“
I do hope you won’t let revenge cloud your judgment, Erinaeus,” The female said, sounding amused.

Erinaeus
’s malicious smile was obvious despite the hood as he stopped to regard the two wizards watching him. The figure above the candle stirred, causing the light to shift and thrash erratically over his blue robes. “Oh, I am well aware, my dear Dahna, I know the importance of getting rid of those out of our control, but do please allow me some fun. Not often do these weary bones feel excitement akin to this anymore,” he said, patting his side lightly at the last statement.

The light was struggling to stay lit, almost dead now; there was not much of the candle left. The three wizards were reduced to bar
ely visible shapes in the dim light. The image Erinaeus conjured of Alicia was nothing but an echo that seemed to have caught Elrik’s attention. “Erinaeus, what about the apprentice and the pawn? They are no further use to you. It would be such of waste of two perfectly good specimens. . . ” The diminutive wizard rubbed his hands together, barely able to contain his mounting excitement at the prospect.

“
If the apprentice survives the initial assault, you can have him. Let the Mage alone though, that might catch Denician’s attention as well. He fancies her, after all.”

Dahna gave an audible noise of disgust as the candle gave one final violent flicker before losing its downhill battle, bathing the meeting in darkness, the image winking out of existence simult
aneously. “Well, it would seem appropriate to call the meeting to an end,” the scratchy low voice of Erinaeus penetrated the silence, “We will meet back here in two months to prepare. Remember, each step is important, no matter how small. Tread carefully. Do not do anything to jeopardize the plans we have labored so many years on
.
I do not believe the council would approve of our failing. Goodbye.” At that ominous warning, there was a whip-like crack followed by silence.

“
I hate that bastard.”

“
Me too.”

The final sound the room heard was the creaky opening and eventual shutting of a door.

❧
　❧　❧

“So what be yer favorite spell ter cast?” A familiar eye could be seen staring from the crack of a slightly ajar door.

Marcius sighed. “
Come on Master Antaigne, do we have to go through this
every time we meet?” Marcius had traveled most of the morning and was in no mood to go through the motions of their ritual. The hinges creaked as the crack closed a bit in response, Marcius relented. “Fine, my favorite spell isn’t a real spell at all. I like using the sleep can-trip. Ok? Now can you let me in?”

The door swung open and in its place was the stout form of Antaigne, clothed in his dusty green pocket robes, a dark red wizard
’s hat set at a jaunty angle upon his brow. His fiery red beard was braided together and a dark eye twitched in mock anger. “Bah, impertinent smart ass lad ye be! Better ter be careful than dead! ‘Specially after the news o’ ter Academy bein’ about!”

“
Ummmm. . . Master?”

“
What is it now?” the dwarf blustered.

“
I could use a bit of help. . . ” He sheepishly indicated the covered cage that lay right next to him. The rest of the ingredients were in the cart, but Marcius didn’t like leaving the little beast by himself, even for a moment. He had developed an odd attachment last night as he fed the wyvrr, something he was reluctant to admit. The soft scales under his fingertips and the tiny chirp it gave after the meal gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. Marcius wanted to study the animal, to learn more about it, but Antaigne’s plans gave no quarter.

“
This be yer future familiar, eh?” The dwarf waggled a thick finger at the cage, and then pointed it at the materials that still remained in the cart, and made a come-hither motion. Marcius watched, mouth agape, as all the boxes started moving themselves into Antaigne’s house as if propelled by an invisible person. The trunk containing a number of his clothing jostled him roughly to the side in its haste to obey the dwarf’s magic.

H
e blushed as he made way for it, chuckling at how absurd the situation was.  As they arranged themselves neatly in the corner of the house, Marcius felt a brief surge of jealousy. He envied Antaigne’s casual attitude towards magic, even though he knew the feeling was irrational.

One day, I
’ll be able to do that!
Marcius swore an oath under his breath as Antaigne stepped into his house and he followed reflexively. The dwarf flicked his hand at the door and it slammed shut, another not so subtle reminder for Marcius. “Ye'll be stayin’ there.” The dwarf pointed to a door where there had not been one before. “I’ve been doin’ a bit o’ redecoratin,” Antaigne mumbled, wiggling his fingers in an unspoken response to Marcius's questioning eyes.

Marcius followed as An
taigne opened the door, a small room with a single cot lay beyond. The only other pieces of furniture were a simple wooden desk with a quill stand and a chair. A single candle, burning brightly from the corner of the stand, served as the only other light source. The bed was soft and bouncy Marcius found, and the plain white covers were made of warm material that felt soft and yielding under his fingertips. There was a slight musky tinge of cider in the air, which made his stomach rumble in response. He had not eaten since he left.

“
Let’s take a look at this familiar o’ yours.” Antaigne bent over and removed the cloth, drawing an inquisitive chirp from the occupant inside. Marcius could only see his Master’s back, but a visible stiffening and slight gasp drew his attention. “Master, is something wrong?” He stood up from the bed and took a tentative step towards the dwarf.

Antaigne slowly turned his head, and Marcius was astonished to see a child-like expression of awe on the weathered dwarf
’s face. “Where. . . where. . . where did y-ye get a wyvrr?” Antaigne stammered, as if breathing was hard in the present situation.

“
Ummm. . . I bought him from a friend. Is there something wrong with him, Master?” Marcius was starting to feel worried. Of all reactions he had expected, this wasn’t one of them.

“
Magne umbrigyn bi gorgne nien ver wyvrr
and he wonders what ter big deal be about?” Antaigne was mumbling to himself, half of it in dwarfish, a habit Marcius had long since associated with excitement from the gruff dwarf. “Marcius, by Thoirne's great beard, ye have no idea why meself, any dwarf really, would make a big deal about a wyvrr?”

The blank look on his face t
old a lot to the dwarf, so shaking his head at the folly of youngsters, Antaigne continued reverently as he stroked his red beard thoughtfully, “Wyvrr are a sacred animal ter us dwarfs, they be the symbol of our God, Thoirne. According to dwarven legends, Avalene allowed Thoirne ter send a guardian fer us dwarves before sealing off Faelon from the other Gods, since the old God was one of the few allies o’ Avalene during the war. That guardian be
Skragneteger,
the Earth Gouger. Skrag had servants ter tend him as he sleeps, these servants be wyvrrs. They be a holy creature te us.”

“
But the person I bought them from said they were known and wanted for their pet like qualities. They were supposedly rare, but I don’t recall her mentioning anything about serving some Earth Gouger.”

Antaigne shrugged, still watching the animal with the same spellbound expression on his face. “
Well, religion is one thin’ I’ve never got along wit’. I just never thought I would ever see one o’ these creatures with me own eyes. I heard so much about ‘em from the priests an’ such in Thrimghol. I traveled for many a days adventure, yet this is the first o’ these creatures I have ever seen. Trust me when I say that be no small feat, lad. Ye will have a unique familiar ‘ere.” Antaigne plopped himself down on the nearby chair, his gaze still reverently on the wyvrr as he wiped his brow of the beads of sweat that had formed.