Vicious Magick (19 page)

Novanostrum walks over from the general
direction of the bathroom, looking refreshed, when Sogbottom comes
rushing in.

“Crucifers! The town is positively swarming
with them, we’ve got to get out of—ah! The map!” he says, lunging
for the tattered paper. He grabs it and rushes toward the fire.
Zanther and Novanostrum both dart towards him, with Zanther
managing to connect with a flying tackle just a second after the
paper touches the flame.

Sogbottom is knocked into a table, his beard
and hair coming loose. Zanther raises his eyebrows.

“You!? You spoony bard! What the hell did you
do that for? That wasn’t the…”

It’s at this point when a horde of Crucifers
kick the door open and swarm into the church. Novanostrum pulls out
his trusty staff and swings it around his head, knocking the
soldiers back with a burst of energy.

“It’s time to GO! Let’s get out!” he says,
jumping over the writhing mass of longknives and armor. Madra and
Zanther follow suit.

The streets are filled with troops, troops
who didn’t necessarily know what they were looking for, but who are
at least clever enough to realize that people running must need
chasing. So they give chase.

With a mass of soldiers in pursuit, the three
of them run for their lives. Varello appears from amidst the mass,
riding atop a charging bull, stampeding over bystanders and sending
Crucifers flying. “Follow me!” he shouts as he charges past.

Madra gives Zanther a confused look. “Do we
follow him?”

Zanther tosses a glance over his shoulder at
the stampede of Crucifers, then back at Madra. He nods.

Varello’s bull gallops towards the docks,
where he leaps off his mount and lands on his feet, running,
leading them down a pier and up the gangplank of a large ship.
Zanther and Madra follow, and Novanostrum is the last one aboard.
He sends a fireball right at the middle of the gangplank, blasting
it to splinters. The bull is quickly surrounded by more Crucifers,
both the beast and the men seem unhappy about the situation.

The ship is full of startled men in
robes.

“Let’s go!” Novanostrum shouts.

One of the men is looking at the town through
a telescope. He appears to be the captain, as his hat is fancier
than the hats of he others. “TO SEA!” he bellows.

The four of them sit gasping, collapsed
around a mast as the sails unfurl and the anchor is hoisted up. The
soldiers on the shore have gleefully taken to pelting the boat with
powderblasts, which the sailors are joyfully answering with cannon
fire. A few cannonballs is all it takes to disperse the soldiers
and most of the pier.

Zanther looks over at Novanostum. “I’m
surprised that worked. You’re really persuasive.”

It’s now when the captain walks over to join
them.

“We didn’t help you because of the wizard,”
he whispers to Zanther, “we just really effing hate those
guys.”

He points at the tiny soldier-like specks
running around on the remains of the pier.

The Captain, an agreeable enough if not
overly laid-back sort of fellow, is taking his guests on a tour of
the ship. As soon as they get below decks, they all can’t help but
noticing one thing: books. Tons of books. Piles of books. Books,
books, books.

Books on tilted shelves lining the walls
(tilted up at a 45 degree angle to prevent them from falling out
with every movement of the ship), books in boxes, everywhere they
look, they see books. Newish books, tattered books, dog-eared
books, all categories of books are represented.

“We’re a sort of floating lending library,”
the Captain explains, “the Libros Majorum oversees libraries all
around Upper Kleighton, and we travel between them exchanging
books. In this way, all of the Majorum’s libraries are able to
function as one giant library.”

“So what’s your problem with the Crucifers?”
Zanther asks.

“We believe in the spread of knowledge. Books
are primarily sources of information, of science, of learning. The
Crucifers support ignorance, they burn books, they hate science and
innovation. They’re constantly trying to stifle us, but our
knowledge of science always keeps us supplied with better
weapons.”

Looking glum, the Captain leans on the ship’s
railing, gazing down at the water below. He sees two fish pass each
other going opposite directions.

After their tour, the four of them sit around
a table in the galley, regaining their composure. Zanther
occasionally sips liquor from a bottle. Novanostrum smokes his
longpipe. Zanther looks across at Varello.

“We walked all the way across the continent
looking for that scrap of paper…why’d you destroy it?”

“I have an axe to grind with the Pontiflex
Minor. He wanted your map, so keeping him from acquiring it seemed
like a good idea at the time. I didn’t realize it wasn’t the
map.”

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t an ordinary piece of
paper. It was apparently some kind of holy relic. You and
Novanostrum missed it, but one glance at it zapped that demon to
dust.”

Varello’s eyes light up.

“The…Nexus Sketch…was real? Well, that means
the original painting must be real as well.”

“What do you mean ‘the original painting’?”
Zanther says.

“If you’re really curious,” Madra says,
motioning at the books surrounding them, “why don’t you do a little
research?”

Wizards vs. Non-wizards