Mud and Magic Ch. 01-03

"How did you escape?"

"Faedal made a stupid mistake. He forgot to keep my magic snuffed out. Maybe he thought me broken, utterly under his thumb. But once the cursed arrowhead was gone, I slowly recovered." She smiled and undid her robes, leaving the garment to rustle to the floor. She tossed her head back and moaned. The moan turned into a howl and suddenly, there was the sound of cracking, breaking bones. Her jaw changed first, elongating. Her pointed ears moved until they rested on the top of her skull. Groaning, Elara fell forward, breaking her tumble with her hands. She bent forward, horrible noises coming from her reshaping body. Silver fur sprouted from her fair skin.

Rhys scrabbled backwards, trying to get some space between himself and the writhing mess on the floor. A moment later, the pandemonium was over. Panting, a large, silver-pelted panther stood in front of the bench.

"You could simply have told me," Rhys stammered. The great cat mounted the bench, bent down and fondly licked his face.

A moment later, with much less effort, Elara, naked, sweaty, writhed against him. "I tore my way through the camp."

The door to the room opened and Idunn returned, a phial in her hand. She stopped next to the bench and sighed. "So much for good behavior," she snarled. "And let's not forget, for all your fury and rage, had it not been for Thurguz, you would have ended up as a trophy for Carver, probably a rug in his throne room."

Elara sat up and reclaimed her robe, hurriedly slipping back into it. "After almost thirty years of hunting lumberjacks, I... wasn't quite prepared for the rangers."

"We have noticed," Idunn said. "Or maybe you became a little too complacent."

"How come you know so much about Carver?" Rhys asked Idunn.

"Let Thurguz tell you the whole story when you next see him," Idunn said, handing him the phial. "Let's just say that he, I and Carver have a history. Wherever he treads, misery and sorrow follow. We try to help as best we can. And maybe vanquish him once and for all." She balled her fist. "Any more questions?"

Elara cut in. "Rhys. We're all a big family here. If I remind you of your sister... Maybe that's not a bad thing, hm?" She threw him a steamy look. Rhys blushed a deep crimson. Elara laughed. "Well, that was not what I meant."

"Well then you'd better zip your honeyed lips and let the grown-up do the talking," Idunn said. "All right Rhys. Time for you to learn how to read." She passed the phial to him.

"What is this?" he asked, looking skeptically at the vessel. Inside, a thick, viscous potion sludged, a dull grey but speckled with brilliant, rainbow-hued particles.

"Bottled knowledge," Idunn explained. "Tastes horrible but is utterly harmless. Like most medicines. Bottoms up!"

Rhys uncorked the phial and gulped down the contents in one go. His face turned purple and he fought not to retch, forcing breath into his convulsing body.

"Now, don't die on me," Idunn chuckled. "Thurguz wouldn't approve."

Rhys shook. "That was even viler than cold cabbage soup," he panted. "Now what."

Idunn had reclaimed her book and flipped it open at random. "Read this."

He stared at the page. His gaze was blank at first but suddenly understanding lit up his eyes. "'In the year three-hundred and eighty-five, God King Orran IV mounted the throne, much the dismay of the old noble families. Instead of one of their long lineages, a common-born-'"

"Enough, enough," Idunn said, flipping the book closed. "That was flawless."

"At first I wondered what all the garbled symbols meant but suddenly it was like I remembered something which...hadn't been there half an hour ago," Rhys said excitedly. "I know about suffixes and affixes and what all the lines and sharp wedges mean!"

"Say 'thank you' to Galdor later," Idunn said. She frowned at the broken stylus. Muttering to herself, she picked up the discarded wax tablet and stylus pieces and held them in her hands. The stylus suddenly gleamed in the same azure glow Rhys had seen around himself sometimes when his magic acted up. A moment later, the stylus was whole again and Idunn handed him the item. "Now. How about you write me something?"

"Sure. I'll try." Rhys stared at the tablet. Then inspiration hit him. He scrawled, etching the runes into the wax. He turned the tablet in his hands and displayed it to Idunn.

<i>Hello. My name is Rhys and I thank you most kindly for your hospitality.</i>

"Not bad for your first few words. Not bad at all." She nodded, satisfied. "Besides your practical studies, you will be expected to learn on your own. Begin with an overview of the current state of the Old Kingdoms. Who's ruling what, who feuds with whom. Our libraries should have everything you need. If you can't find it, ask. Either your fellow students or we will gladly help. Understood?"

"Yes. I can't wait to find out what is beyond the borders of my village."

"Good. An appetite for knowledge is an important tool in your arsenal. Never let it go dull. Now for your practical studies. I would like to understand how you use magic. Can you show me?"

"In here? I'll probably tear the whole room apart."

"That's what we have the circle in the center of the room for. It should contain excessive energy. And should you break the circle, I have my own means of shielding myself."

"Lucky for you," Elara muttered. "Please don't blow me up, all right?"

"I'll try," Rhys said. He stood up and placed the wax tablet on a cabinet then walked into the middle of the room until he was in the circle. "What do you want me to do?"

"I don't want you to exert yourself too much. Thurguz told me about your last brush with Sorcerer's Burn. I'm sure Elara can patch you up but it would be best if we avoided it altogether."

"I could make something fly," Rhys offered. "So far, I've tried pebbles."

"That sounds easy enough. Well then." Idunn pulled a simple wooden disc from one of the cabinets and handed it to him. "Will this do?"

"We'll see soon enough, I guess," Rhys said, placing the item just in front of his feet. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the expectant faces of Idunn and especially Elara. It helped to focus on something besides her irresistible eyes. He tried to breathe regularly, deeply, steadying his nerves, then he knelt down and touched the disc. It was as big as a plate, completely smooth and much heavier than the pebble. He could feel...something stir around him, like a faint current. The sensation was familiar. When he had been back at the farm after his night with Dara, when the whole common room had vibrated in time to his angry heartbeat, he had felt something similar, only much, much fainter. He raised his hand, breaking skin contact with the disc. There was a soft rattling. Rhys opened his eyes. The disc shook, as if someone was pounding the ground it lay on. Slowly, as if fighting the weight of the world, it struggled upwards until it rested on its side like a weighted coin. It began to spin, slowly at first but faster and faster with every breath Rhys took. <i>Come on, fly for me!</i> he begged. And the disc, cloaked in a sheen of azure energy, slowly rose. It ascended until it hung level with his face, slowly spinning. There was a pressure on his skull, like some gigantic tongs pressing into his temples and eyes. He tried to force the disc ever higher but it wouldn't move. Only the horrible pressure would mount and mount until Rhys thought his head would cave in.

He moaned and the spell was broken. The disc clattered to the floor, zinging across the room like a scared cat and he crumpled forwards, clutching his thumping head. Elara was on him in a flash. Her cool, gentle hands caressed his face, her fingertips cloaked in verdant energy. The pressure lifted, leaving Rhys a little light-headed and dizzy.

"How bad is it?" Idunn asked, a note of concern in her voice.

"He'll be fine, I guess. A bit of a headache but nothing a few hours of rest can't cure. No bleeding. My healing spell should have taken care of that."

"Thank you," Rhys muttered against her shoulder.

"Don't mention it," Elara said, helping him to his feet. "Your verdict, Mistress?"

"That was mighty impressive. Most novice sorcerers I've seen would faint trying something like this without the proper instruction. And I finally understand how you can burn yourself so harshly," Idunn said. "Have you ever tried using any kind of energy besides your own life force?"

Rhys blinked at her. "I have no idea what you are talking about. Will I die sooner now that I have cast magic?"

Idunn shook her head. "No. But the injuries you have caused yourself, that was of your own making. While you worked your magic, I watched you with this." She held up a flat lens on a long handle. "It shows magical energies. Here, take it."

Rhys took the item and turned it in his hand. Idunn walked past him until she was in the center of the room. "Now watch as I summon my axe."

He did as she asked and held the lens in front of his face. Idunn raised her right hand, clasping at an invisible handle, her left hand performing that complicated, twisting motion. And Rhys saw it, strands of movement, ripples in the air, curling around her left hand before they poured, a thick, braided stream, into her right. The burning axe formed.

She didn't even appear winded. "Do you see now?"

"Yes. But I don't understand it any more than before."

Idunn dismissed her axe. Through the lens, Rhys saw ripples in the air around her, tendrils dissipating.

"Magic is the ability to control the sources of energy surrounding oneself. Much like the smith knows how to harness the forge's heat to bend metal to his will, we magic users can bend the forces of nature to our will. You and I, Rhys, we are sorcerers, given the ability to sense and direct these forces. What you have done until now is drawing power from the only source you knew. Your own body. Let me show you something."

The female dwarf raised her hand, palm up. "Close your eyes."

Rhys did as she asked. "And now?"

"I want you to do two things for me. First, find the source of power nearby -- without looking. Then use the power to make wind."

"What, like this?" Rhys asked, flapping his hand.

Idunn snarled. "I want you to take this seriously. This is the most fundamental lesson I can teach you. Once you have grasped it, you will not hurt yourself any more. Unless you act utterly foolish, that is. Now then. Shall we begin?"

With his eyes closed, Rhys stood in the center of the room. <i>Find the power source,</i> he thought grimly. <i>What am I even looking for?</i> He slowly turned, his hands stretched out. <i>Wait. What was that?</i> He stopped and moved his hand. Wasn't that a slight breeze? <i>But how can one take hold of a breeze?

Probably the same way you can focus your anger.</i> Rhys balled his fist, grasping at thin air. And the impossible happened. The breeze came closer, surrounded his hand like a tiny tornado, stirring the fine hair on the back of his hand. Grinning, he stretched out his other hand, much like he had done in the chapel. This time, there was no infernal heat in his palm, only the rush of cool air from his sleeve. He heard Elara squeal.

Rhys opened his eyes. Elara's silver mane fluttered in a stiff breeze and she clasped the collar of her robe. The thin garment was about to be blown off her shoulders. The feeling was incredible! He pulled his gathering hand close to his chest. The tiny tornado intensified to the point that he could feel the air tug at his own robe and the stream of air whipping Elara's hair and robe intensified. The elven druid shrugged and the robe fluttered off, leaving her shivering in the stiff breeze. He closed his fist and the furious wind stopped. "Sorry."

"Well, if you wanted to see me naked, you just needed to ask," Elara complained. She reclaimed her garment. "How do you feel? Any pain?" the ruffled druid asked him.

"No. I've never felt so... alive in all my life!"

Idunn clapped encouragingly. "That was well done. Again."

* * * *

"Bravo!" Galdor said, rapping his knuckles on the table. "Not only did you get to see our beautiful elven princess naked -- twice! - but you are now a proper sorcerer. A congratulatory toast is in order, methinks!"

The dwarf rose and walked to the far corner of Rhys' room. He had brought over a bedroll and a few of his belongings. The smell of baked apple was thick in the air, which Rhys found oddly soothing. He finished the last of his supper and placed fork and knife onto his empty plate. When he had returned from his all-afternoon lesson, Galdor had awaited him with a sumptuous meal which he and his impromptu roommate had then taken care of.

"I don't know about 'proper,'" Rhys said, leaning back in his armchair. "But at least I seem to understand what I will be capable of. Idunn pulls no punches when she is explaining things. Five elements, power sources, focus gestures -- it's all a bit much still."

Sen entered, favoring Rhys with a bright smile. "Was the meal to your satisfaction?" she asked no one in particular. She joined him at the table and collected trays, crockery and leftovers.

"Yes, thank you very much."

"Glad to hear it, Master Rhys," she said. "Is there anything else I can do for you this fine evening?" She leaned over him, preparing to pick up the tray. Her cleavage beckoned invitingly.

"Yeah, you can. Get lost," Galdor growled. Sen shot him an annoyed look but retreated nonetheless. "If you are that desperate to get plugged, why don't you visit Borna already?" the dwarf asked, loud enough for Sen to hear. The half-elven maid snarled and slammed the door.

"Diplomacy isn't your strong suit, eh?" Rhys asked.

Galdor chuckled, bringing a thick, ceramic flask and two stout glasses to the table. A small, clicking velvet bag dangled from his fingers. He sat down and placed a glass in front of Rhys and himself. "Let's just put it this way. When I am in the mood for one, I prefer my women with a bit more class and less desperation." The dwarf uncorked the bottle. "Speaking of moods, are you in the mood for a game?" Thick mead poured into Rhys' glass.

"Are you challenging me to one of those fabled dwarven drinking contests?" Rhys asked apprehensively, much to Galdor's amusement.

"Heavens no. I wouldn't risk our budding friendship like that. I'm no cleric or physician but I know enough about bodies to understand that you probably hold liquor about as well as a sieve. No offense."

"None taken. Apart from the occasional glass of watered-down ale, I didn't get to drink that much in the way of alcohol." Rhys sniffed at the rich, golden liquid. "One glass of this and I'm probably out."

"Make it last then," Galdor said, filling his own. "To new-found friendships and hitherto unknown abilities." He raised his cup.

"I'll drink to that," Rhys said, clicking his glass to Galdor's and taking a sip. The mead was shockingly sweet, with just a hint of spice and fire underneath. He smacked his lips. "Devious stuff."

"Right you are. Much better than stone water."

Rhys sipped again then put the glass down. "What's your game then?"

Galdor chucked the bag onto the table. "Just a bit of bone-tossing. What do you think?"

Rhys laughed. "I don't even have anything to wager with."

"Ha! Spoken like a true dwarf!" Galdor tapped his temple with the tip of his index finger. "But every magic user will tell you that the things in here are much more valuable than any gold or jewels." He undid the strings and upended the bag. A leather dice cup, a small wax tablet with stylus and five dice tumbled out. Rhys had seen enough gambling at Dara's but these dice were different. First, they weren't made from carved bone but metal. Rhys saw copper, silver and gold. The fourth die was made of iron and the last one had an odd color, somewhere between copper and honey gold. And they had eight sides, not six. "Now, pick a die. We'll only need two for the game I'm planning."

"Fine. I'll humor you," Rhys said, picking the copper die. His thoughts drifted to Dara. What was she doing right now? Probably the same thing she did every night. Serving drinks, telling jokes and keeping the taproom in a good mood by showing some skin. He sighed.

Galdor tossed the iron die into the cup. Rhys followed suit. The dwarf put the others back into the bag and rattled the cup enthusiastically. "So, listen up. We're playing 'Ones or Eights'."

"How does it go?"

"It's rather simple yet fun for a whole evening, if done right. The long-term goal is to roll higher than your opponent. Once we're done, the player with the highest score wins and can ask a favor of the loser."

"When are we done?"

"How about before bed time?" Galdor chuckled. "We dwarves play it until the first head hits the table or the score-keeper is too drunk to do his job but I'll go easy on you. Now for the interesting part." He upended the up and pointed at the dice. "You can read the numbers?"

"Absolutely. I wonder what languages were in that Bottled Knowledge potion."

"Ah, so it was for you!" Galdor beamed. "Idunn could have said so. Now, being the considerate alchemist I am, I made sure the imbiber would be able to read and write the most common and useful dialects. That includes the Trade Tongue, Dwarven and Orc."

"No Elven?"

"I said 'common and useful.' Besides, I didn't have a scroll written in Elven to burn. Anyway. Once you roll a double eight, you earn a coin. Or you would, if we played with money. In our case, I'd say, you are allowed to ask me a question. Now, if you roll a double one, I get to ask a question."

"Don't you get to ask a question also when rolling a double eight?"

"Indeed. If we would play with more than two people, you could pick who to ask when the double eight comes up. For the two of us, it just means we get to ask more questions each. Speaking of which -- any questions?"

"I hope I don't end up losing my soul to this," Rhys chuckled. "Who goes first?"

"Let the dice decide. If yours rolls higher, you go first. Good?"

"Sure."

Galdor put the dice back into the cup and shook it, plonking the leather vessel onto the table with gusto. The dice came up seven for Rhys and two for him. "Your turn."

Rhys claimed the dice, shook and rolled. The dice came up three and eight. Galdor made a note on the wax pad.

"That won't last through the night," Rhys observed, tossing the dice back into the cup.

"It will," Galdor said. He shook and rolled. Double one. "My, that was quick."

"You said Idunn and you hail from the same clan. What is your business with Carver?" Rhys rolled. Five and four.

"That's rather easy and boring on my part," Galdor said, noting down the scores before claiming the cup. "Idunn and Thurguz know the man personally, I don't. Heard about his atrocities since I've come here of course." The dice clicked on the table and Galdor noted his roll. "They needed an alchemist and the Elder had written in one of his letters to Idunn that I was shaping up to be a good one. Since I didn't have anything better to do, I heeded her call to adventure. Your turn."

He passed the cup to Rhys who had taken another sip from his mead. Rhys rolled, netting a double-one of his own. He raised an eyebrow. "Are these loaded?"

Galdor placed his hand on his chest. "By the mighty hammer of the Forgefather, you wound me." The dwarf slowly sipped his mead. "I may have made them myself but I would never!"

"Sorry I asked. It's just-"

"I am just pulling your leg. With so many axes and hammers around, no dwarf wants to be called a cheater. Only the very strong or stupid. Now, for my question. Do you prefer boys or girls?"

Rhys blushed a deep crimson. "What?"

"A rather simple question, I would think. Cock or pussy?" He claimed the dice, rattling them in the cup playfully.