Mud and Magic Ch. 07

Lishaka returned to the musical instrument and played a few notes. Rhys looked at her. "I wanted to ask you last time but what kind of machine is that exactly?"

"Oh, this?" Lishaka pressed more keys, causing a surprisingly melodious chord to ring forth. "Idunn calls it a dwarven 'hammer harp.' Fascinating thing. I can't stop playing it!"

"This is fascinating indeed. I have never heard of goblins possessing anything even resembling artistic talent," Moril said.

Lishaka fixed him with a narrow-eyed glare. "Are you implying my playing is bad?"

"Oh, I wouldn't dare. I have learned - through painful trial and error - to tread lightly around females of any species. My time here at the tower was very educational in that regard." Moril rose and joined her at the hammer harp. "I am simply amazed that you have the patience to try something as un-goblin as music."

"Hah!" Lishaka pressed a few keys in staccato, causing the hammer harp to ring disharmoniously. "Most goblins are too stupid for anything but eating, fucking and shitting. And some even have problems with that!"

"Let me show you something," Moril said, pointing at the keyboard. "Do you see these crests?"

"Of course. They are kinda prominently etched into the wood. Why?"

Moril opened a box atop the hammer harp and pulled a sheet of thick paper from it. Then he tilted the box upwards, fixed it with a wooden stand and placed the paper against it. "Now look here. Do you notice something?"

Lishaka squinted at the paper. "There are a whole lot of crests... on... that paper?"

"Yes. Now look. Those atop one another need to be pressed at the same time, while those next to each other are pressed in sequence."

"This looks complicated!"

"Believe me, if a mere elven archer with no talent can read this," Moril played a rousing sequence of notes ending with a beautiful, ringing chord, "a talented goblin such as you should have no problem. Learning these sequences is not much different than learning motions to gather magic."

"Hm. A challenge! Just you wait, the next time we meet, I'll play this just for you, without sheet or errors!" Lishaka promised.

"Teach a goblin a song and she sings it, teach her how to play the hammer harp and the music will never stop?" Rhys asked.

Moril joined him again and refilled his glass. "Something akin to that, yes." He took a sip. "And my ears won't hurt as much," he added softly, barely audible over Lishaka's much more melodious but halting melody.

"Not only an intimidating fighter but a decent teacher as well," Rhys remarked. "Are all Talons like that?"

Moril shook his head. "If you are referring to Sen then better keep it quiet. I know that Thurguz would not approve. And no, most Talons are rather... let's say we work best alone, far away from any social setting. But living here for five years has changed me, nearly more than the physical alteration has." He took another sip from his wine. "Before I came here, I had one goal and one goal only. Find Princess Elara and kill those responsible for abducting her. Having to live here, surrounded by misfits from every species, left me little choice but to broaden my horizon. And learn to empathize with others."

"That's why you intervened on my behalf?"

"Yes. I know Thurguz means well but sometimes he has to let his students fall on their faces. See how terrible the world outside really is. Or confront the deaths of their loved ones. I hope you don't intend to curse my name for all eternity."

Rhys shook his head. "No. I had to see them."

"Did you say your farewells?" Moril raised his glass. "To the fallen."

Rhys toasted him. "To the fallen indeed. Yes. Hilgrun saw to it." He drank deeply. "And now I should better find Hagazz. Thanks for the company, Moril."

"Don't mention it. If you ever need my help, don't hesitate to ask."

* * * *

The infirmary was empty. Celeste's bed looked untouched and neither Galdor, Idunn or Elara were present. Rhys looked at a new shelf full of bottles, phials and jars. Nothing looked like a healing potion and he could read only half of the labels, those marked in Dwarven or Common. Sighing, he left the room and returned to his own. He dug one of the healing potions Galdor had given him a few days ago from his pack and drained it. The bruises sustained from Idunn's bombardment vanished, leaving him ache-less and slightly lightheaded. Maybe drinking that right after a large glass of wine wasn't too clever. Or maybe the potion took some of the fatigue away too. Rhys stretched and sighed. Time to see Hagazz and receive another sound beating.

* * * *

Sweat stung in Rhys' eyes and the padded training armor stuck to his every limb. At least the Armor spell reduces the amount of bruises I'll - ow!

He stumbled backwards and barely evaded the second hit of Hagazz' combination attack. The third came fast and high and Rhys managed to get his staff into a blocking position just in time. He pivoted away and narrowly escaped Hagazz' foot aiming for his crotch. Snarling, he drew a tiny amount of power and channeled it through his foot. A wet stain fanned out from the tip of his sandal, under Hagazz' back foot. The dark elf weapon master suddenly fought for balance as the ground underneath him became soft and slippery. Rhys pressed his attack, landing two satisfying hits on Hagazz' chest and shoulders.

"Oh, playing dirty are we?" the dark elf asked. Suddenly, it was pitch black around Rhys. Shit! Forgot about that! Frantically weaving his staff in front of himself, he slowly retreated. Suddenly, his back bumped into something. Two hands came around, one clasping over his mouth, the other drawing a wooden dagger across his throat.

"And just like that, you're dead." Hagazz sounded smug. "Don't ever try to cheat a dark elf."

"If I had put all my weight into the hits, you'd be holding your fractured shoulder," Rhys complained. "There would be no way you could have backstabbed me with only one good arm."

Hagazz dismissed the orb of darkness. "Heh. I have killed people with less than one good arm, believe me. In all seriousness though, you are slowly learning how to behave in a real battle. Stop holding back."

"Didn't you say 'no magic allowed?' I dimly remember all the times you tapped me with that Disjunction stone."

Hagazz grinned like a shark. "I think we can dispense with the purist bollocks. You are a sorcerer, you should fight like a sorcerer. Which you did. When did you learn how to channel through your foot?"

"Call it 'spur of the moment inspiration,'" Rhys said. "I didn't have a hand free."

Hagazz' staff hit Rhys' arm. The wood clanged off it with a metallic ring. "And you didn't lose your Armor spell."

Rhys blushed. "I was much too busy defending to really think about it. Hm."

"You know what that means, right?" Hagazz said.

"I get to leave earlier?"

"What are you blathering, boy?" the dark elf yelled, his staff already hissing through the air. Rhys barely managed to evade the vicious hit. The next two he took on his staff. Hagazz hit so hard, Rhys' fingers hurt despite the Armor spell.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Rhys shouted, managing a quick poke past Hagazz' defense.

"Not yet. Especially not with training weapons," Hagazz said. "I'm simply putting a bit more zest into it." The next hit crashed into Rhys' thigh, killing any forward momentum he had built. Instead of trying another attack, Rhys slid backwards, gritting his teeth. Hagazz closed in, staff whistling in ever-quickening circles.

Fight like a sorcerer, huh? Rhys quickly studied his attacker. Like himself, Hagazz wore a suit of padded garments, light enough to move almost unhindered, with enough padding to absorb some punishment. Properties. Rhys took a deep breath. This will hurt. Instead of retreating further, he advanced, using a one-handed staff poke to break Hagazz' whirls. He knew the dark elf's fighting style well enough by now. The moment he countered an attack, another would come from - what Hagazz thought - an unexpected angle. And like clockwork, Hagazz' foot came up. This time Rhys was ready. His free hand, charged with a fistful of power, clasped around the dark elf's ankle. The training trousers suddenly went rigid, as if they were made from solid metal.

"Wha-" Hagazz gasped, then crashed into the sand, unable to move his legs. Rhys, grinning, placed the tip of his staff on the prone dark elf's throat. "I got you. Finally."

"What exactly just happened?" Hagazz asked, wriggling his foot. "Why can't I move my legs? Did you paralyze me?"

Rhys dismissed the spell. "Nothing so complicated. I merely told your pants to behave like they were made out of metal."

"Devious. I like it!" Hagazz rose, slapping sand off his behind and legs. "Much better than the little mageling too afraid to raise his daggers against me or Hilgrun."

"I'm done being scared," Rhys grumbled. "Not after what Faedal has done to my village." He bent low and picked up both staves, tossing one at Hagazz. "One more."

* * * *

Later that evening, Rhys left his room, tired but content. A hot bath had taken away most of the aches he had sustained during the day's lessons and he felt for the first time that he had improved his fighting skills. As has been the case so often for me, it was all a matter of perspective. Before, I was too afraid to fight. Now, after Dara's death... after Gran's death... I finally have found my fighting spirit. I wish it would have manifested sooner. His steps took him towards the infirmary once more. Maybe Celeste has returned.

He heard voices. Or rather one voice, agitated, angry. It came from the door to the balcony. Rhys altered his course and followed the voice.

"Are you really that afraid?" That was definitely Celeste.

A low growl answered her. Icy cold winds blew into the corridor. Rhys reached the last intersection before the balcony door. He looked around the corner. The doorway was wide open, allowing the cold winds of the Frostspires to whip and slash into the tower. Next to the door, swathed in thick furs, he could see Elara and Celeste. The brunette cleric stood nose to nose with Thurguz and by his pose alone, Rhys could see that she had the tall half-orc on the back foot.

"Now I understand why you only react to Carver's moves. When was the last time you went on the offensive, Master? Are you afraid to risk your agents' lives?"

"Don't you question my methods, girl," Thurguz snarled. Elara was even paler than usual, wide-eyed and caught between her concern for Celeste and fear of what Thurguz might possibly do next. "I understand your frustration but I have been doing this for sixty years. It has worked flawlessly."

"Sixty years you say?" Celeste yelled. "And what did you manage in that time? Because last time I checked, Carver has most of the area around Lordehome, large chunks of the elven woods and the southern coast under his thumb. What have you done in that time? Besides freeing toll booths, that is. Chassari told me you have a bloody army at your beck and call. Why not use it to drive Carver from Horvath Point? Or free the elven woods of his grasp?"

Rhys held his breath. He saw how Thurguz tensed up and expected the half-orc to lash out, to scream at her insolence. But nothing like that happened. If anything, Thurguz seemed to deflate. He took a step backwards and sagged against the wall.

"Because unleashing a war host upon the land would make me no better than Carver," he said, his voice full of sorrow. "I don't want to plunge the whole continent into a war, not unless I can guarantee it will end with Carver's defeat."

"But... but..." Celeste stammered. "You can't outweigh Carver's forces with only a few handfuls of agents. Agents, I might add, who sit around writing reports for you to read instead of mobilizing the populace against Carver! Sometimes the answer to brute force is brute force!"

Thurguz sighed, a hollow, leaden sound. "You have seen, experienced what happens when the populace rises up-"

"Oh, don't you dare finish that thought," Celeste hissed. "The villagers were not prepared, not by a long shot. If they had been, none of this would have happened!"

"You don't know that!" Thurguz roared, causing even Elara to flinch backwards. "If your village had resisted, Carver or Faedal would have razed another one, just to teach you a lesson."

"And you don't think that would have caused others to rebel against him? He can't kill every single peasant because he needs them to feed his own armies. Maybe all that cloak and dagger bullshit is getting you nowhere and you are simply too stubborn to admit it!"

"My approach has worked thus far and I will not let a grieving girl yell insults at me. You are exactly proving my point. I have seen more than enough of my agents hurt or dead to not risk them on suicide missions."

"And we have seen what that got you. Thurguz, I have been here a bit more than a week, talked with Idunn and the others. I know exactly how much progress you made. Apart from freeing one toll booth and almost not thwarting one of Carver's rituals, precious little. And in return, they razed one village. And while we're arguing here, his troops are ransacking the elven holds for whatever reason and pulling the noose tighter and tighter around the Old Kingdoms. How many of us will have to die before you actually mount an offensive which means something?"

The roar was shockingly loud, followed by a sickening crunch and a wheeze. Rhys risked another glimpse. Celeste stood with her back against the wall, Thurguz breathing heavily against her. A fist-sized crater adorned the wall next to her head and the half-orc looked at his bleeding knuckles.

"I... I think we all should retire for tonight," Elara said. Compared to the noisy exchange just a few breaths earlier, her voice was a soft whimper. "Before anyone says something ...unwise?" She closed the balcony door.

"That might be prudent," Thurguz grumbled. He snarled a quick syllable and vanished.

"All of that shouting for naught," Elara said.

Celeste snorted. "Someone has to get through that thick skull of his. And I'm angry enough to bother trying." She winced, pressing a hand to her stomach. "I... I think something gave just now."

"I told you so," Elara admonished her. "If you would rest like Idunn and I have-"

"I can't stay in that bed forever," Celeste complained. "I want to be out there, doing something!"

"Which won't happen unless you are fully healed. Your encounters with Faedal, the Sorcerer's Burn - you can count yourself lucky you are as well as you are. Which is to say 'not very.'"

"Why are the healing spells not taking?" Celeste complained. "You've been pumping spell after spell into me and I still feel like a wet kitten." They slowly shuffled towards the corner.

Rhys cleared his throat and joined them. "Can I help?"

Celeste managed a weak smile. "Rhys. How long have you been here?"

He shot a meaningful glance at the crater. "Long enough to applaud your bravery. Or foolishness." He slung Celeste's other arm around his shoulders.

"Thurguz has at his disposal a large number of agents. But instead of using them to sabotage Carver's operation, blow up his supplies or otherwise inconvenience them, he simply has us write reports," Celeste hissed, limping along between them. "He's too afraid to risk any of us. Utter bullshit!" She stopped, clutching at herself. "Every single one of us would gladly lay down our life for the cause."

Elara chanted softly before she slid her hands, enveloped in veridian energy, under Celeste's furs. "Better?"

"Barely. But I think I'll manage. It's not like I have to cast another Teleport anytime soon," Celeste groaned. She slung her arms across Elara's and Rhys' shoulders. Slowly they shuffled towards the infirmary.

"I think Thurguz knows what he's doing," Elara said.

"You think he has some massive masterplan and we're just not seeing it?" Celeste snorted in disgust. "I say he's too scared to make a major move. Maybe thinks Carver still hasn't found out about his little insurgency." She spat onto the floor.

"You of all people should know," Elara said. "Didn't Faedal let anything slip?" She opened the infirmary door.

"I'm surprised the man can string together whole sentences," Celeste said. "No. When we were together, it was all about how he would make me his forever."

Elara's face darkened. She muttered something in Elven and her eyes sought Rhys'. Louder, she said "Rhys, please leave us. I need to check up on Celeste."

"Of course." He squeezed Celeste's shoulder. "I'll wait outside."

"Hogwash. I have nothing to hide, not anymore. Let him stay." Grunting, Celeste struggled out of her furs and the nightgown underneath. A thin rivulet of blood had trickled down her thigh. Sighing, she slid into bed. Rhys turned away as Elara grabbed cloths and bottles off the medicine shelf.

"I have no idea why you take so long to heal," Elara confessed. Rhys heard a stopper being pulled, followed by the sound of liquid glugging. "Mirrin came together much easier, with much fewer spells. I'm at a loss, honestly. Did Faedal do something to you which might have changed you?"

"I would have told you if I knew. He raped me over and over and when he felt like it, he cut me, beat me, bit me...," Celeste's voice drifted away. "His mere presence made me ill."

"Maybe that's it," Rhys said. He turned around. Celeste lay naked on her bed, legs spread wide open. Blood-spattered cloths were between her thighs and Elara applied an ointment between Celeste's labia. "Faedal is a fallen paladin. Maybe his presence... or his seed... did something to you."

He turned away, blushing. "Sorry."

Celeste exhaled behind him. "How could I be so stupid?"

"You are not pregnant, are you?" Elara asked.

"Of course not. I've taken my herbs like a good girl. But Rhys is right, damn it."

"I was?"

"Yes. I have read about it in Mother Ilva's books," Celeste said softly. "It concerns fallen Paladins. Or apostate clerics. When their deeds are heinous enough, their mere presence, their touch can confer injuries which are much harder to heal. Especially to holy folk." She groaned. "He must have pumped gallons of his seed into me. Every orifice. Four nights and days."

Elara muttered something under her breath, then cursed. "Which means that most of our initial treatment was for naught. We need to purge that vileness from you."

"I will not bathe in holy water," Celeste snarled. "Bless me already and let us hope that it will expel the remnants of his contamination."

"At once," the elf druid said. She began another chant. Eerie waves of luminescence washed over the walls. Rhys, despite himself, turned around. Elara stood next to Celeste's bed, one hand on the cleric's stomach, the other clasping her own holy symbol. She was radiant, shrouded in a pulsing cloak of golden light which moved in waves down her arm, enveloping Celeste's naked form. After a small while of chanting, she bent down and placed a loving kiss onto Celeste's lips. The radiance seemed to shrink, condensing into a blinding drop of sunlight which disappeared between their lips. Elara giggled and straightened up. "Better?"

"If only for the spiritual support," Celeste said, a wistful note in her voice. "Let's hope that was enough to drive Faedal's taint from me."

"Now, let's see how a healing spell feels," the elf druid said, chanting another incantation. She placed her hands on Celeste's stomach, causing the prone cleric to gasp in surprise.

"Yes, that's much better," Celeste said. "It no longer feels like a spiked mace in my innards."

"We should have thought of that much earlier," Elara said, hanging her head. She gathered up the supplies and used cloths. "Rhys, be so kind and fetch the duvet off the other bed."