Mud and Magic Ch. 06

* * * *

Four hours later, Rhys knocked at the door to the infirmary. He was utterly spent and sported a throbbing headache the likes he had never had before, not even when one of his brothers thought it a good idea to toss him against the barn wall and his head had hit a protruding beam.

"Come in," he heard Galdor's voice. He pushed the door open and entered. The room was only moderately lit, mainly by a huge blaze roaring in the fireplace. Celeste's bed was empty but Mirrin had some company. Lishaka sat on the foot of the bed, a large bowl of cookies in between her and Mirrin while Hilgrun had taken the stool by the side of the bed. Galdor, a thick book on his knees, sat in one of the armchairs. He closed the volume and looked at Rhys, concern in his blue eyes.

"You look utterly drained. What happened?"

Rhys stumbled to the foot of Mirrin's bed, dug into the bowl of cookies and wolfed down a handful. Lishaka shot him an incredulous look.

"Hey, I made them for your sister," she complained.

"You do look like you just got put through the wringer by Ulf or Delf," Mirrin observed.

Rhys sat down on the edge of the bed. "Four hours of shrinking and enlarging items. Over and over again," he groaned. "I just wanted to see if everything's all right here before falling into bed."

"And? Did Idunn's torture yield any results? I mean, besides wringing you out worse than sparring with me would?" Hilgrun asked, a rare playful smile on her lips.

Instead of answering, Rhys closed his eyes and gestured, closing his left hand and stretching out his right, the index finger pointing at Hilgrun's stool. The barbarian yelped and dodged off the seat. Within a few heartbeats, the stool was as big as a table and grew still, until everyone present would have easily fit on it.

Rhys moaned and clutched his head. The stool returned to its original size.

Mirrin watched her brother, mouth turned into a large "O" shape.

"And that's what you get for showing off," Galdor complained. He placed the book on his seat's armrest, picked up a square piece of stone and held it in his hand. A moment later, it was covered in frost, thin sheets of ice forming on it. The dwarf wrapped it in a towel and gave it to Rhys.

"Hold this to your head while I quickly grind some willow bark for you." He strode to a low table and began to work.

"Thank you," the young sorcerer muttered, slumping into the armchair. He pressed the towel-wrapped stone against his forehead. Icy chill emanated from it, promising to soothe his head. Looking over the room again, he asked: "What are you all doing here?"

"What's wrong with getting to know your sister better?" Lishaka asked. "It's always nice to meet new people, especially other young girls." She fondly patted Mirrin's knee. The young girl eyed her suspiciously but the little smile tugging at the edges of her mouth betrayed her true feelings.

"And what I told you last night applies to her as well," Hilgrun said. "Being alone after such an ordeal is not good." The barbarian woman clasped Mirrin's hand and squeezed reassuringly.

"And where has Celeste gone to again?" Rhys asked, indicating the empty bed.

"Elara took her somewhere," Lishaka said, a lewd grin splitting her face. "I saw them when I came here."

"That was my idea," Mirrin said. "I thought maybe it would be better for her to sleep somewhere else. Poor thing needs much more rest than me."

Galdor harrumphed. "Not to spoil your fun, young lady, but you could do with some rest yourself. You are not as close to Death's door as poor Celeste is but between your ordeal and the lack of proper food..." He let the words drift off meaningfully.

"I'm telling you, I'm much better already!" Mirrin said. "I want to get out of bed and have a look around."

Rhys couldn't help but grin. "Well, she's certainly well enough to argue."

"Gran told me not to take any piss from anyone," Mirrin said, her eyes sparking with that new fire Rhys had never seen before. Although... that wasn't quite true. I've seen it every day since I came here - when I look in the mirror. Or I used to, before the whole village went up in flames.

Galdor joined Rhys and gave him a small packet, wrapped in waxed paper. "Use this powder in hot water and drink it before going to bed. It should help with your head."

"Thank you. How can I ever repay you?"

"For this? You don't have to. Besides, we already have a deal, remember?" He waggled his eyebrows.

Before any of the girls around could ask any incriminating questions, he soldiered on: "Well, since we're so many people now, how about we play a little game?" Galdor asked, patting a certain leather bag on his belt. "Anyone fancy a round of 'Ones and Eights?' We could also play dice poker."

"A game? How is it played?" Mirrin asked, her eyes lighting up.

Rhys shook his head. "Sorry. Not tonight. I should try and get some rest. But you lot have fun." He rose from the armchair, leaned into the bed and hugged Mirrin. "And don't play for favors," he whispered in her ear.

"Gran always said gambling is the first step to wickedness," Mirrin said, hugging him back.

"I wouldn't go that far," Rhys said. "Playing with Galdor is fun. Just don't do anything you might regret later." He slid from her embrace, only to be ambushed by Lishaka. She threw herself at Rhys and slung her arms around his neck.

"Don't I get a hug any more?" the goblin asked, nuzzling Rhys' neck.

Rhys could keenly feel Mirrin's eyes on them both. A sideways glance was enough to see that his sister was cocking a quizzical eyebrow.

"Is she his girlfriend too?" Mirrin asked Hilgrun. "How many does Rhys have?" A note of indignation was clearly audible.

Hilgrun cleared her throat. "We all... like each other very much around here...," she lamely began, her words cut as Lishaka smooched a comically loud kiss onto Rhys' lips.

The goblin giggled and sat back on her haunches, eyeing a beet-red Rhys. "Sleep tight, Rhyssie. Should I come and tuck you in?"

Rhys rolled his eyes. "No, Lishaka. No offense but with you around I will get about as much sleep as if I were to stay here." He slid off the bed, squeezed Hilgrun's shoulder and strode to the door. "Good night, everyone."

* * * *

The laughter from the infirmary followed Rhys as he padded towards his room. A sliver of light was visible from the open door. Sighing, he pushed the door inwards. Sen was placing robes onto a sizable pile of clothing at the foot of his bed.

"Oh, it's you," Rhys muttered, closing the door behind himself.

"You look cheerful," she said, looking up from the laundry. "As in 'not really.'"

"It was a long day, especially the past four hours. Idunn had me shrink and enlarge stuff until my head hurt."

Sen snickered. "I bet." She patted the items on the bed. "That should be all the robes and loincloths you went through recently, plus I looked over your traveling gear. Pants and cloak were just quite dirty but the shirt is beyond repair. I've dug through the cabinets downstairs and found one which might fit you, along with a vest that goes with your pants."

"Thank you. You don't have to put the clothes away, I can do that myself."

Sen shook her head. "I can see you are about to keel over. You undress and slip into bed, I'll put away the clothes and be gone before you know it. Same breakfast as always?"

"Yes, please." Rhys struggled out of his robes, kicked off his sandals and crawled into bed, fast asleep even before his head hit the pillow.

* * * *

The next few days were even more crowded than usual. After breakfast, Rhys would visit Mirrin in the infirmary. His sister proved to be amazingly resilient, visibly improving day by day. Afterwards, Idunn awaited him with more magic lessons. Rhys mainly worked on tightening his grasp on size alteration effects but, to keep him from burning out, Idunn sprinkled other things into the lessons, like levitating items other than pebbles, coating surfaces with ethereal grease or how to cause knots, buckles and straps to come undone in one fell swoop. Once he could do it reliably with one target, Idunn added more and more targets until, a week later, Rhys could consistently neutralize a whole room full of training dummies. Afterwards, Rhys had barely enough energy for another visit to Mirrin, let alone any serious socializing. He would wolf down a small meal and fall into bed, utterly drained.

* * * *

Idunn applauded. Around her, eight training dummies lay in shambles, chest plates, helmets, weapons and pants on the floor.

"You didn't even flinch when I threw those missiles at you," Idunn remarked. A trio of fluffy fabric balls hovered over her palm. They were filled with beans and one of her favorite tools to disrupt her pupil's concentration.

Rhys blinked. He could feel the bruises where the bean balls had hit him.

"I'm more amazed that my head isn't trying to come apart," he said. "That last manifestation was almost too easy."

Idunn chuckled. "Like I said a week ago -- you're training your brain. And I'm glad to see that you can focus even under adverse circumstances." The bean balls vanished. "The next thing we will learn is battlefield awareness. I may have thrown bean balls your way until now and it is rather obvious you chose to ignore them, but you can't do that in a real battle."

"Don't tell me you're thinking of bringing Borna back to the lessons," Rhys said.

"No but I might cast nonlethal combat spells to keep you on your toes." She sighed. "But that should be enough for today."

"Really? We've been at it for only four hours." Rhys gathered energy. By now, he measured power by the fistful, not per strand as he had done previously. When he had drawn enough, he used the same principles Idunn had taught him to reverse the damage he had done. Tendrils of energy picked up the pants and armor pieces and returned them to their former place. Like a swarm of metallic toads, the helmets levitated upwards and landed neatly on the strawy heads of their respective training dummies.

Rhys exhaled. His heart beat faster and a bit of sweat had gathered at his hairline but it was a marked difference from just a week ago, when a simple shrunk helmet had put him through the wringer.

"I won't look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe I can spend the rest of the day with Mirrin."

"You do that. And when you're done, find 'Alteration of the Self' by Telthas Stormcaller. Now that you know the principles of altering inanimate objects, we will expand that knowledge by applying those principles to living bodies. It might help to read up on the theory before we sling the first spells with embarrassing results."

"You sound like you have some experience in that regard."

Idunn chuckled. "I have taught Thurguz. Let's leave it at that. Now shoo."

"Yes, ma'am." Rhys bowed and left the training room. By now, his feet found the way to the infirmary on their own. When he knocked, Celeste answered him. He opened the door and entered. Mirrin's bed was empty, causing Rhys' heart to skip a beat. Celeste sat in hers, a book on her lap.

"Don't look so alarmed," she said. "Hilgrun and Lishaka came by earlier and took her for a walk around the tower, like the previous two days."

"No one told me Mirrin was up and about already," Rhys complained.

"Or you forgot that Elara said something in that regard a few days ago." She patted the edge of her bed. "Given how battered you looked each evening, I can't even blame you. Did you put Idunn to sleep?"

Rhys sat down and clasped her hand. Celeste cocked an eyebrow. "No, she let me go early. No idea why, really. Maybe I exceeded her expectation or she ran out of things to show me." He shrugged. "How do you feel?"

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around some things which happened since you left," she said. "But to be honest, I can clearly see that you belong here. You have grown." A sad little smile played around her lips.

"Are you still angry about Thurguz?" Rhys asked. "Or is it Dara and the others?"

"Both, probably. And in hindsight, I'm not even sure why I jumped at the old man like that."

"I can understand your feelings, I think." Rhys squeezed her hand. "You were desperately looking for a safe haven and what did he do? Implicate you with Carver? I would have scratched out his eyes too."

"Maybe it's even simpler than that," Celeste said softly. "I always thought Thurguz could make things right with a snap of the fingers. He was that larger-than-life hero able to turn even the most tricky situation around. Only when I needed him most, he wasn't there. No one was there but me." Her fingernails dug into the back of Rhys' hand.

"Do you think... Faedal used you?" Rhys asked, haltingly.

"I wish I knew. Idunn has looked me inside and out." She blushed. "No spells had been cast on me, except for the occasional healing spell when I was about to die. I was naked and wrapped in a bloody sheet and that wasn't enchanted either. No jewelry, nothing under my skin. Maybe he was just too damn arrogant and thought I'd never escape."

"Elara said something similar when she was his prisoner," Rhys mused. "When he held her captive, he never thought about using a Disjunction stone on her to keep her magic drained. And when she had the chance, she shape-shifted and fled. How did you do it?"

"After my first failed attempt to Teleport back at the shrine, I tried and tried again. When he fell asleep after raping me I fought through the pain and pulled at the strands of power until I fell unconscious." She smiled grimly. "I could not believe my luck when he was summoned. I kept struggling until the spell finally worked."

"That's impressive. You were more dead than alive when you arrived here."

"He was not gentle. And you should know how taxing sorcery can be. Teleport especially." Celeste sighed. "One thing is for certain. I will not forget what he's done to me, not for quite some time. Whenever I close my eyes, I see his face. Whenever I touch certain parts of my body, all I can think of is how he touched me there." Her voice grew softer and softer. "Maybe I'm his prisoner after all."

She looked at Rhys with pleading eyes, so full of doubt and shame. And so much like Mirrin's, when she first came back from the Fortress, Rhys realized with a start. His mother and older sisters had had the same haunted look about them, especially when he caught them lost in thought.

"You have been my pillar of strength so often back home," he muttered, pulling her close. "I wish I could help you with more."

Her arms coiled around him and Celeste held on like someone about to drown. Hot wetness seeped over his neck. Muffled gasps and sobs tore from her lips, softened by Rhys' robe. He held her while she cried, digging her fingers into his back for dear life.

"I will get that bastard," Rhys vowed. "For you. For Mirrin. For the whole damn village." His eyes blazed with righteous fury. "And once I have him, he will pay for everything he did."

The cold, icy rage in his voice even dried Celeste's tears. Her hands cupped his cheeks and she looked into his eyes. "Don't do anything foolish," she whispered. "Faedal is insane. There is no reasoning with him."

"I don't want to reason with that monster," Rhys hissed. "I want to end him."

* * * *

He found Mirrin and the others down in the Arena. Someone had found a blue robe which fit her and her long hair had been braided into a thick plait and pinned to the back of her head in a bun. She was battering away at Hilgrun with a training sword while Lishaka sat on a table and cheered them on.

Still very sober from his encounter with Celeste, Rhys joined Lishaka at the table Hagazz normally used for weapon displays and planted his hands on the nicked and chipped table top with a slap loud enough that even Hilgrun flinched.

"What is happening here?" he asked.

"What does it look like?" Hilgrun fired back. "I'm showing your sister how to handle a blade."

Lishaka pointed at Mirrin. "She asked for it."

"And she's quite a quick study," Hilgrun added.

Rhys exhaled slowly, trying to keep his temper under control. "Did Idunn say if she's well enough for such antics?"

"When did you let others say if you are allowed to get out of bed?" Mirrin asked, pointing the blade his way. "I feel fine. No fever. No weakness. I wanted to do something besides looking at pictures in books." She blushed. "So Hilgrun said she'll show me a bit of swordplay." Mirrin made a motion with her wrist, elegantly slicing the training weapon through the air. The wooden blade whistled angrily.

Rhys froze. That wasn't the Mirrin he knew. I mean, sure, she's the same girl, but ...something's different. Where does she find the strength?

Mirrin wasn't quite done. "Besides, who said you'd have to be the only one fighting against Faedal? That bastard and his friends hurt me." Another whistling slash through the air. "If anyone has a right to kick that bastard's gonads, it would be me."

"I would feel much better if I knew you'd be safe," Rhys said.

"It's rather obvious that the people entrusted with her safety did a lousy job," Hilgrun said. "When only your Gran had enough wits to get her out of harm's way."

Rhys closed his mouth with a click. "Still..."

"I'm not trying to turn her into a sword-wielding killer just yet," Hilgrun said. "But when Mirrin asked me, should I have turned her away? Like you, she needs to find out which road through life she's going to travel. And being able to defend oneself is a useful skill, whether you'll end up selling sweet rolls in the market or trying to be a mercenary."

"I see your point but isn't she a bit young to be playing with swords?"

Mirrin slapped the sword against her thigh. "Rhys, seriously. Boys play with sticks and wooden swords all the time. And if you say 'but you are a girl,' I'll come over there and give you a decent spanking. Now that our brothers are dead, someone has to keep you in line."

Rhys leveled an accusing glare at Hilgrun. "This is all your doing."

The tall barbarian placed her palm on her breast, looking hurt. "Me? I didn't do anything!"

Lishaka giggled helplessly, her ears flapping.

"Oh, the dulcet tones of bickering females. I really have missed that."

Everyone turned to face the new voice. Hagazz strode briskly into the arena, a tall, armored female by his side. Long, black hair spilled over the back of her armor.

"And who are you?" Mirrin asked. "You look like a dark elf!"

"Beautiful and observant, a combination I could fall for," Hagazz remarked. He bowed, his hand flourishing in a complicated motion. A dagger appeared between his fingers when he rose. "My name is Hagazz, weapons master and combat trainer for this band of ragtag revolutionaries. But I am not important." Another bow, this time indicating the tall woman. A white tabard was held in place by a broad weapons belt, a beautiful set of scales stitched into the flawless fabric with silver and gold thread. Daggers and a small warhammer hung from her belt while the hilt of a blade protruded over her shoulder. The left gauntlet and forearm were built differently than the rest of her armor, made from a dark-stained metal and inlaid with slightly glowing runes.

Her face was a study in contrasts. She was undoubtedly beautiful, with full lips and high cheekbones, but her eyes commanded the beholder's full attention. They were slightly slanted and of a mesmerizing green, looking alert, yet compassionate at the world. A slim silver circlet kept hair out of her face. She radiated confidence without appearing to be cocky and her whole bearing commanded instant respect. Rhys fought the urge to take a knee.

"My name is Maia Giantslayer. Fist of Justice." She offered a slight bow. "A pleasure to meet you all."