Mud and Magic Ch. 01-03

"Master, I had a pretty good idea what awaited me when I volunteered."

Rhys could hardly believe his ears. Was that the same soft-spoken, demure village cleric he had known since Ilva had brought her back from Lordehome, some eight years ago? She sounded like one of the adventurers in Gran's book!

"Still, I feel bad knowing you are alone out there. You should have taken someone else with you."

"Two young, beautiful women who showed up in this hell hole at the same time would only have raised suspicion. Don't fret, master. Carver thinks me under his thumb. And I have made friends in the meantime. The innkeep and her brother try to help as best they can. And it's about another friend of mine I am calling."

"I'm listening. You wouldn't risk a call if it wasn't important."

"Rhys. Used to be a simple farmer. Says he has 'witch blood.'"

"Where is he now?"

"On the bench behind me, completely drained. Master, I have never seen anything like what happened to him. When I asked him to show me what he can do, he cast what I presume was a Scorching Ray, nicely immolating a candlestick I had down here. And suddenly, his whole body deteriorated. Old wounds broke open-"

"His body turned clammy and cold?"

"Yes."

"How bad was it?"

"For a moment I feared he was done for. Had to put my biggest healing spell on him."

"Oh, a bad case of Sorcerer's Burn. How is he doing now and what have you done to him?"

Celeste looked at Rhys, who stared at her open-mouthed.

"After the healing spell, I wrapped him in a blanket and had him eat two elven trail packs. Now he's sitting upright in boots and trousers and stares at me in disbelief. I think I just shattered his world."

"That's good to hear. There might be hope for him yet. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid, like casting another spell. Keep him warm and travel-ready. I will be there in an hour."

"Yes, Master."

* * * *

The door to Celeste's small hut closed behind her. Rhys slumped onto a stool at her table and stared at her from under the hood of his cloak which he had wrapped around his naked torso in lieu of his torn shirt.

"Who are you? I thought I knew you!"

Celeste dug around in a large chest at the foot of her bed, a large pile of furs and blankets. She pulled out a ball of fabric and tossed it his way before turning to the hearth, putting water on to boil.

"Have I changed that much over the past half hour?" she asked.

"I have always thought you were a kind, humble cleric."

Her smile was grim. "Then I have done a good job. Ilva was an impressive teacher and I have become a pretty good healer and cleric by now thanks to her and your Gran. But when I first came here, I was a sorceress and a spy."

"I don't understand. Why all the cloak-and-dagger?"

"Carver is a dangerous and powerful man, Rhys. He controls much of the land around Lordehome, including this and six other villages. My master wishes to unseat him. But to do that, he must work quietly and slowly. One wrong move could spell disaster."

Rhys shook his head. "What is your master doing?"

"I'll let him explain the finer details. Just know this -- he tends to gather promising apprentices and teaches them to become formidable forces for good."

"Sounds to me he has an axe to grind with Carver and uses any means necessary to get there," Rhys grumbled. Behind Celeste, the pot began to rattle.

"Had it not been for Thurguz, I would have ended up like your sisters," Celeste said, taking the boiling water off the hearth. "I owe him my freedom and my life." She poured liquid into two cups. Moments later, the fragrant aroma of herbal tea filled the hut. She brought the cups to the table and sat down opposite Rhys. "You can take the shirt. It's not as nice as the one Dara gave you but it will do until you get to Thurguz' tower."

He struggled into the garment then looked back at her. "Thank you. And speaking of Mirrin -- would you be so kind and look after her once I'm gone? And Gran?"

"Of course. Has she been sent back already?"

"Yes. She is a shadow of her former self." Rhys looked heartbroken. "Mirrin shied away from me when-"

Celeste nodded knowingly. "I wouldn't be surprised if they went especially rough on her, pure little dove she was. I'll go see them once you and Thurguz are gone."

"And watch out for Padec. I don't think he took me leaving very well."

"That's a surprise. One would think he'd be ecstatic now that there's one less mouth to feed."

"Yeah but one less helpless body to batter into submission too." He took a sip from his cup. "This is really good."

"Ilva's personal recipe. One of the many things I've inherited from her. Once you've downed your cup, you should rest a bit."

"Thurguz said he'll be here in an hour. I don't think I'd fall asleep until then."

"Even if you only rest a bit, it will help you recover from your Sorcerer's Burn."

"Speaking of that -- you used 'wizard' before when you spoke about Carver's herald. Yet you called yourself a 'sorceress.' What's the difference? And what about Sorcerer's Burn?"

Celeste smiled. "That's a lot of questions. I'm sure Thurguz can answer them much better than I ever could. But the long and short of it is this -- sorcerers have an innate ability to manipulate magic, wizards don't."

Rhys shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Sorcerers like me -- and you, going by what you did earlier -- can manipulate magic in the same way others walk and breathe."

He sipped his tea and looked thoughtful for a moment. "Now that you mention it. I didn't have to say any fancy words or waggle my fingers like the elven wizards in Gran's book. It just... worked."

"Those fancy words and gestures are a wizard's way to focus his mind for the task of bending the magical forces to his will. It's like the difference between an animal and a trained fighter. One just knows where to bite and rake to kill, the other has to learn the intricacies of a fighting style to be effective."

Rhys yawned. "Sounds incredibly complicated."

"There will be enough time to worry about that." Celeste moved around the table and helped Rhys to his feet. "Now, how about that nap?"

"Sounds very appealing all of a sudden, thank you." He came to his feet and let her guide him to the pile of furs. "You don't mind?"

"Absolutely not. Sleep tight, Rhys. I'm sure Thurguz won't mind if you slept in a bit."

Rhys was asleep even before his head had touched the furs.

* * * *

Soft voices woke him some time later. He recognized Celeste's soft purr. <i>If that's even her real name,</i> Rhys thought bitterly. The other, although quiet, seemed to come from his stomach, only some of it seemed to reach his ears.

"-Guilds of Lordehome are alarmed at the stranglehold Carver has on most of the roads," it rumbled. "I have already hired some mercenaries out of Storm Harbor to make sure more caravans get through but it will be at least three months until they are ready to fight."

"If this goes on, Carver soon has the city completely surrounded. Do you think-?"

"Very likely. Men like Carver are not content ruling over peasants. I wouldn't be surprised if Lordehome is his real objective."

"What would the other city-states do if he actually manages to siege Lordehome?"

"That's the irony. He doesn't have to actually raise a single damn sword -- he just starves the city until they accept him as their new tyrant. The others? Squabble amongst themselves like they have done for the past century until they feel his jaws around their balls."

Rhys opened his eyes. On the stool he had vacated, a huge, cloaked man sat. Rhys barely saw anything apart from a tattered traveling cloak and shoulders, wider than two of his brothers combined. Quietly, as not to disturb them, he pushed himself to a sitting position. No idea how he had slept but he was wide awake now.

Celeste, hidden from sight by the man's massive bulk, sighed. "Is there nothing we can do to make them listen?" He heard the frustration in her voice.

"Depends on how my plans pan out. But one step at a time. Good afternoon, young man."

The massive man rose, turning the tiny hut into a downright claustrophobic space. The flickering light of the hearth cast more shadows than light which didn't help matters. His skin was almost black in the uneven light, his eyes shone in a demonic red and the flames glinted on large tusks growing from his lower jaw and protruding over his upper lip. A silver topknot sat on his otherwise shaved skull and his ears were large and pointed. Rhys recoiled.

"I am Thurguz. Now, don't look so alarmed. I am half-orc but I don't usually bite. Nice to meet you." He reached out with a large, three-fingered hand, sharp nails atop the fingertips. His voice sounded like he had said these same words a hundred time, always to the same result.

Rhys grinned sheepishly and clasped his fingers around Thurguz' large paw. The half-orc pulled him to his feet without any apparent effort. "I am Rhys," he said.

"Ah, the promising new spell-slinger Celeste has told me so much about."

"I- I don't want to be rude, but... Half-orcs can use magic?"

Thurguz laughed, a friendly snort. "Don't tell me you expected a dainty elven lass to pick you up. Yes, I can use magic. The fact I made a four-hundred mile trip in less than an hour should tell you that."

"I- what? Four hundred? Where do you live?"

Another burst of laughter. "Celeste didn't tell you? Good girl. You'll see soon enough. Have you said all your good-byes?"

Rhys picked up his cloak and fixed the clasp around his neck before nodding once. "Yes. Or rather... almost."

He walked over to Celeste. She rose and met him halfway. To her surprise, Rhys pulled her into a firm embrace, placing a soft kiss onto her lips.

"What was that for?" Celeste asked, intrigued.

Rhys blushed. "Well... Thank you for everything you have done for me over the years. And... if you don't want that kiss, give it to Dara."

Thurguz roared with laughter. "You, my boy, will fit right in. The girls will be flocking to you like mad dark elven priestessess to a heretic."

Now it was Celeste's turn to blush. "I will. To be honest, I will miss you. And if you were as charming with Dara as you are with me, I'll probably need to console her quite a bit." She snapped her fingers. "By the way. I meant to give you something."

She slipped from his embrace and fetched a satchel, not unlike her healing bag Rhys knew so well. "While you slept, I went back and checked on the shrine. I found a large book on one of the pews. Did you drop it there?"

Rhys paled. "Gran's book! In all the commotion and me nearly dying...-" He rushed and hugged her again.

Celeste grinned and handed him the bag. "My pleasure. I've also taken the liberty of putting some other things in there. Think of me when you use them, okay?"

Rhys fiddled with the strings holding the bag shut. She slapped his hand. "No peeking until you've settled in!"

"Now, as much as I'd like to stay and watch, we should be getting a move on. I don't want Carver's minions to suspect Celeste any more than necessary. Ready?"

Rhys hugged Celeste one last time then stepped away from her and slung the satchel over his shoulder. "Good bye."

"Well spoken. Now, don't panic." Thurguz growled a long string of harsh syllables. His meaty paw closed around Rhys' shoulder and there was the abrupt sensation of violent movement. Much too shocked to even scream in protest, Rhys clawed at Thurguz' hand. As suddenly as it had started, the sensation was gone, leaving him in a daze.

"Whoa, steady there boy. Sorry about that. Teleportation magic can turn you upside down, especially if you're not used to it. The vertigo will pass in a moment. Breathe deeply."

Rhys took a few lungfuls of air. Wherever they had gone, the air was frigid, worse even than the river water back home. But at least it helped clear his head.

"Where are we?" Rhys asked when he trusted his voice.

"This is my sanctuary, built deep in the Frostspire Mountains. Far away from prying eyes and unnecessary distractions. It is a gathering place for those opposing evil, a home to displaced strays and sometimes a place of learning. I hope it will be at least one of those things to you eventually." He sounded very proud.

Rhys slowly looked around. It was late afternoon, going by the position of the sun. Above him, the sky was a dizzying, endless blue. The horizon fencing in the sky was a majestic sight, incredibly sharp, snow-covered peaks and deep valleys, the bottom hidden from view by clouds and dark shadows. They stood on a wide balcony running around the outside of a tall, grey tower. The rough walls had neither windows nor arrow slits. Above him, Rhys could see the edge of a sharply pointed roof and some kind of complicated metal brace holding a huge metal tube.

Thurguz stood beside him, arms crossed in front of his wide chest, his face contemplative. In the harsh daylight, his skin was more green than black but his overall impressive aura remained. Even with the enormous scenery around them, he still was massive, easily two heads taller than Rhys and so much wider in the shoulders. His tusks even turned the little smile he wore into a frightening scowl. Despite his jovial behavior, he was fairly certain that Thurguz wouldn't tolerate much in the way of foolishness.

"It's impressive," Rhys said. "I've read about the Frostspires in a book my Gran gave me. 'Far to the north, encrusted in everlasting cold, hostile even to those who dwell there. The end of civilization, the end of life could not be harsher.'"

"We have a poet among us," a female voice said. "Bravo." She clapped as she came into view. Like Thurguz, she was taller than Rhys, her golden hair wound into a thick braid going to her wide hips, clad in a simple kilt. He tried not to stare but her breasts were almost level with his face and the sleeveless fur vest she wore despite the cold struggled to contain them. He was convinced that the thin leather straps criss-crossing over her cleavage could snap any second if she moved the wrong way. Her arms were wider than both his legs combined and finely toned. Fresh cuts and bruises disappeared under the vest.

She placed her fists on her hips and examined Rhys critically with icy blue eyes, a dismissive smile on her pale lips. "That was 'Orran and Hilgrun', right?" To Thurguz, she said, "I admire your kind heart, Master. But what good will a scrawny poet be?" Whenever she spoke, she rolled the 'r' noticeably. It gave her speech a harsh, unusual edge.

"Now, Hilgrun, play nice," Thurguz said. "This is Rhys and he will be a powerful sorcerer soon."

"Another one of those, Master?" She made a disgusted noise. "You will never get rid of Carver if you put all your faith into magic. Honest steel, that's what you should concern yourself with."

"Duly noted, dear Hilgrun," Thurguz said. "And that's why I've put my trust in you and Borna."

The name caused Hilgrun to scowl even more. "Give me a thousand giants to slay instead of training with her. She's... wrong." The tall woman wrung her hands. "The next time you go out and rescue a stray, how about a cute elven archer I can play with?"

"I'll tell Idunn to keep an eye out. Now, did you come out here to welcome our newest arrival or was there anything else on your mind?"

"I was just taking a break. Hagazz had it in today for me." She rubbed her bruised arm then she again looked at Rhys, extending a hand.

He took her hand in his. Her fingers and palm were calloused, much like his. Only he had wielded nothing but a pitchfork in his life.

With a grim smile, she closed her fingers and shook, nearly pulverizing his hand. "Welcome," she purred.

Rhys matched her stare, a slow smile on his lips. "If you're trying to intimidate me with your strength, it won't work. I've lived with four brothers who did that every day."

Hilgrun released her death-grip. "I like your guts, poet. It will take much more than that to earn my respect though."

"What, like a wrestling match?" Rhys joked.

"Try that and I will break you like a twig," Hilgrun snorted. She turned on her heels and walked along the balcony until she was out of sight. There was the sound of a door falling shut.

"What's with her?" Rhys asked, rubbing feeling back into his mangled hand. "Hilgrun? Like in the story?"

"Hilgrun, the giant-witch, is a popular hero to the people of these parts. Naming a strong daughter like that is said to confer her blessing," Thurguz said. "Our Hilgrun is quite the hoyden. Last survivor of a nearby village." The half-orc laid an arm around Rhys' shoulders and motioned for him to walk, towards the door.

"Carver's doing?"

Thurguz shook his head. "Nah. A simple avalanche. Found her by sheer accident and had Idunn put her back together. Now Hilgrun thinks she owes me a blood debt. I see no reason to discourage her, especially since her thoughts have merit. I will need strong fighters eventually and, by Gar-Garaz' shriveled bollocks, she can fight!"

"You don't intend to put her against me, do you?" Rhys asked, alarmed.

"I'm sure Hagazz will eventually want the two of you to spar together but that day should be some ways off. Until then I suggest you tread lightly around her."

"Oh, I will."

Thurguz opened the door and let Rhys pass.

The inside of the tower was much airier than the solid grey walls on the outside suggested. Bright shafts of light poured down from the ceiling, bathing large swathes of burnished wood in pools of gold. Impossible corridors radiated out from the core, a massive stairwell winding its way around what looked like a gigantic spine. Rhys quickly counted. They were on the fourth floor, with stairs going further up.

"This is... enormous!" he gasped, wide-eyed. "Are you training an army here?"

Thurguz chuckled. "My sanctuary has grown over the years to meet ever-changing demands. At the moment, there are only six others. No, seven, including you. It never hurts to have room to grow."

Rhys shook his head. "You don't happen to have a map for this place, do you?"

"No. You should be able to get your bearings in no time. And if you get lost, just shout. There is always someone in earshot. Like Idunn here." He made a welcoming gesture.

A female dwarf had joined them. "Welcome, Rhys," she said. Her voice was warm and friendly and came from around navel height. She wore a robe made from a strange, metallic-red fabric, held in place by a broad golden belt. From it, several pouches and sheaths hung, including a long dagger and what Rhys assumed were magic wands, going by the runes carved into their handles. She had golden eyes and her long, jet-black hair was braided, wrapped around her head like a crown. She had a stout, curvy figure with nice breasts and an ample behind.

Idunn slapped Rhys' thigh. "Thanks for the compliment but in future I'd prefer if you'd look into my eyes. One lecher is more than enough to deal with." She flashed a wicked smile at Thurguz who raised his hands in mock protest.

"I'm sorry." Rhys said, lowering his gaze.

"What are your plans for him?" Idunn asked Thurguz.

"It's rather late already and Rhys had a bad case of Sorcerer's Burn today so it would be best if you showed him to his room. Maybe some food, a quick overview of the rules and then bed time. Tomorrow he can meet the others and have a look around before we begin with the training proper." He looked at Rhys, smiling fondly. "How's that sound?"

"No complaints here." Rhys said. Then something struck his mind. "Am I to call you 'Master?'"

"Not on your first day, boy." Thurguz chuckled. "You will see that we're not too keen on formalities. Mutual respect is much more important. Now, off with you. We can talk more once you're properly settled in."

"Thank you."