Mud and Magic Ch. 07

"Shouldn't you be on his side?" Rhys asked.

"I'm not so sure. We dwarves have only survived for so long because we allowed progress once in a blue moon to shake up our ancestral traditions. You are not the first young hotspur to butt heads with Thurguz and you probably won't be the last. At least I didn't have to glue either of you together, like the last time this happened." She placed the box onto the table top. "I'll be right back."

"What do you mean... the last time?"

"Just one moment," Idunn said, flitting from the room. Rhys eyed the box. It was made from dark wood, with metal fittings around the edges and a serious lock keeping it shut. Holding his hand near it revealed an impressive swirl of magical energy, palpable even without exerting concentration.

A few moments later, Idunn was back, carrying a flask and two glasses in one hand, a basket with cookies in the other. "Had dinner yet?" she asked.

Rhys shook his head. "I've read up on the history and political climate of Sunleaf until you knocked. A sad tale."

"And hardly important for what's at hand," she said brightly. "Please fill the glasses while I prepare the object of tonight's lesson."

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if I'll be any use-"

"You better be," Idunn threatened. "Because I will show you this once and once only. Thurguz has just spent three hours thrashing Hagazz in the arena and he's probably tired enough not to notice me being gone."

"I hope you're not getting yourself into trouble on my behalf," Rhys said, filling the glasses. The zesty aroma of fresh cider tickled his nose.

"All the more reason to hope you're your usual quick study," Idunn said, pulling a key from a pocket. She unlocked the box and flipped the lid open. Inside, on a blue velvet cushion, rested a flawless crystal ball.

"You want to teach me scrying? In one night?" Rhys' gaze flickered from the ball to Idunn. She smiled encouragingly.

"Yes and no. We're going to cheat a little."

"I thought dwarves don't cheat?"

Idunn laughed heartily. "That's what every dwarven male tells you. We ladies know the truth. It's not about the gamble, it's about cheating and not getting caught."

"Are we talking dice or mistresses?"

"The jury is still out on that one," Idunn chuckled. "And I'm glad that's not a topic I have to care for, being out of my clan for the time being. You look rather spooked. Don't tell me Galdor took something valuable from you."

"No, not really. We rolled for favors."

"And you think he cheated?"

Rhys smiled thinly. "I would not dare raise undue suspicion. Galdor has been nothing but courteous to me."

Idunn clapped his thigh. "And you seem wise enough to take care of your own business. Forgive me for poking my nose in." She raised her glass and took a long pull from it. "Now. Scrying. Or rather, coaxing useful images from this magical item."

"What's the difference?"

Idunn wolfed down a cookie. "Scrying describes the general use of magic to obtain information. Many scrying spells work perfectly without any glass baubles, projecting the needed imagery straight into the caster's mind. Having a body of water or a mirror as a prop allows others to see what the caster is seeing."

"So, with the right spell I could use my bathtub as a scrying device?" Rhys asked, pointing his thumb at the bathroom door.

"I have seen Elara use puddles on a muddy forest path and a colleague of mine in El-Abessin can even use colored sand," Idunn said.

"So, why the bauble then?"

"Because we don't have the time to teach you a proper scrying spell just yet. Thurguz was very loud and I could hear him shout 'come up with something by midday tomorrow' even down in the infirmary."

"True. He was somewhat furious at that point. So, this is like a wand?"

Idunn's smile was radiant. "Close enough. The crystal ball takes care of most of the hard work. You only need to supply power and guide the spell's 'eye' where you want to look."

"Is that hard?"

"You can transform your skin into metal already. We start small and work our way up. Interestingly, you will use the same mental pathways when casting a teleport spell, so this is doubly useful, without the risk of you materializing halfway in a boulder."

"Oh, good. What do I need to do?"

"First, you need to touch the crystal ball so it reacts to your commands. Once that's done, you administer a dose of power appropriate to the distance you want to cover and then you imagine a landmark or something similar. The closer to your target the better."

"So, if I imagine the inn in our village-"

"The spell will start there, provided you supplied enough power."

"It takes more energy than activating a wand, right?"

"Yes. And for the elven holds, you'll probably need quite a bit."

"Let's start with something easier then. Can I scry in the tower?"

"No. The whole tower is spy-proof. No peeping on your naked fellow students."

"Was it that obvious?"

Idunn smiled playfully. "Thurguz isn't the only one doing this for quite some time. I have seen my fair share of eager young sorcerers and wizards come and go and like clockwork, it's always the same question."

"Hey, it can't be only males!" Rhys complained.

"I didn't say that in general. We had two dark elven sisters about forty years back. They were the reason we made the tower spy-proof to begin with."

"Not Carver?"

"No, although the ward might have thwarted some of his attempts by now. Enough stalling, Rhys. I know it will be unpleasant but show me your village."

Hesitantly, he placed his palms on either side of the crystal bowl. It was roughly head-sized and strangely cool to the touch, despite the room's ample warmth. Rhys breathed deeply, forced himself to calm down after a long, turbulent day full of arguments and complications. Idunn seemed to radiate calm and warmth, something he only just realized. Normally, she was across from him in the practice chamber but now she sat less than an arm's length away from him and her presence enshrouded him. Rhys placed his hands, palms up, on the table and slowly gathered energy, using the roaring fireplace and the glowing oil lamps around his bedroom as power sources. The lights flickered and a cool breeze whipped through his quarters as he replaced his hands, feeding the energy into the crystal. Instead of trying to escape through his fingers or past his palms like water pressed against a hard surface, the ball absorbed the energy like a sponge, growing warmer between his palms. It seemed to hum expectantly.

Show me the inn, Rhys thought. Show me where I spent one of the few happy nights of my life. It wasn't hard to imagine Dara's bedroom, the warm wood everywhere, the large, comfortable bed, the giant wardrobe full of mismatched clothing. And suddenly, the image was not only in his mind, crisper and sharper than ever before, but in the crystal sphere as well. A simple oil lamp illuminated the room and a tired-looking soldier in black garb sat on the bed, writing into a grubby notebook with a charcoal pencil.

"What the-?" Rhys snapped. His concentration broke and the image winked out of existence. He looked at Idunn. "What is a soldier doing in Dara's bedroom?"

"How should I know?" she replied calmly, sipping her cider. "Try again and find out."

"Will I hear if they talk?"

"Probably. This particular ball can transmit sound, if you put enough energy into it." She calmly tapped his thigh. "Relax. There is no one they can hurt now."

Rhys gasped breath into his lungs and drew more energy. The oil lamps around the room sputtered and died, only the fireplace remained lit. He slapped his palms against the orb. Show. Me. The. Inn, he mentally roared. Dutifully, the image flickered to life again. The black-clad soldier was still writing.

"You can move the spell's 'eye,'" he heard Idunn's voice from far, far away. "Just think about what you want to look at next."

Show me the notebook - inside of the notebook, Rhys corrected himself. His point of view obediently moved, slowly rotating around the soldier's shoulder and slightly up.

November 5th, 816 OY,

have reached Thornton Estates on schedule. Counted the corpses and found several missing. According to the excerpt of the holdings book Herald Kierkov provided, there should be one (1) cleric of Mercy and the family of farmer Padec, eleven (11) bodies in total. They are nowhere to be found. Also, there is a fresh grave next to the farm house, which means someone has already been here or is still in the area. Which in turn means I'll have to desecrate the grave to find out who exactly is buried in there and assign men to watch the perimeter. Morale is bad enough as is, with the men complaining about digging graves in this soil. Maybe I need to crack the whip a bit more. But leaving the corpses out here will do no one any good, least of all any new settlers we'll bring here.

Damage to the properties is severe in the center of the village, not quite so bad further out. I'm not sure if claiming this old inn as our base of operations was a wise move. Most of the front facade has caved in, leaving the taproom a creaking mess. But I'd rather risk a cave-in than being eaten by rats in one of the other hovels.

It's days like these where I doubt my own judgment. Maybe ten more years in the Lordehome Guard would have been preferable to this misery, extra pay be damned.

Note to self - write a proper report for the Herald

The man slapped the notebook shut. Rhys moved the "eye" through the room. The door was shut but not the window. He steered the "eye" out of the room and around the inn. The facade was as he remembered it, half-molten and crumbled, leaving most of the taproom and first-floor rooms open to the elements. Someone had lit the fireplace in the taproom and he could see a dozen men, all wearing black armor and Carver's crest, huddled around it, nibbling on trail rations or drinking from flasks and wine skins.

"It would be so easy to toss a fireball in there," he heard himself growl.

"Sadly, that's not possible with this device."

Rhys dismissed the image and sat up straight, rubbing his aching eyes.

"You know, you are allowed to blink," Idunn said, smiling fondly at him. "Unless it breaks your concentration."

"What are Carver's men doing there?"

Idunn shrugged. "From what I read in the notebook, Carver has sent a cleanup detail. Maybe he wants to settle this village again someday."

"Over my dead and cold body," Rhys snarled.

"Be reasonable," Idunn said, clasping his hand.

"What, there's nothing I can do?"

"Well, can you?" She challenged him with a frank look.

Rhys' mouth worked. He wanted to insist, to assure her that he could indeed do something about Carver's men in the village. "No, damn it."

"Well then," Idunn said, standing up. She reached over the desktop and pulled a large book closer. She leafed through it, murmuring to herself. Having found what she had been looking for, she flipped it open, displaying a beautiful wood carving of a domed hall held aloft by what looked like living tree trunks. Large glass windows allowed slanted rays of sunlight to flood the hall.

"What are you showing me?" Rhys asked.

"This is an image depicting the Hall of the Speaker in Sunleaf, the elven hold you need to scry," Idunn explained. "Take note though. This is the hall as seen by a chronicler in its heyday. The book is over four hundred years old. Sunleaf was abandoned two centuries ago, so take that into account when trying to focus the 'eye.'"

"You think that will work?"

"I have scried on nothing more than a piece of cloth and a vague description," Idunn said, her challenging gaze back in full effect. "Compared to that, you're given an easy task."

"You're pulling my leg," Rhys said.

"I'm most certainly not. A material component belonging to the target and a description works as well as a detailed description or even a memory can."

Rhys rose and went around the room, relighting the oil lamps. His limbs already felt like lead again. "And I thought I'd finally mastered at least the basics."

Idunn's laugh was gentle and warm. "Lifting weights with your arms is a different thing entirely than running forty miles with a drunk dwarf on your back. Both are taxing, aye, but different enough that your body will hurt afterwards."

"Fuck drunk dwarves," he grumbled. He slumped into his chair and claimed the last two cookies. "You don't happen to have one of these 'material components' on you, do you?"

"Sadly, no. And Elara and Moril are not from Sunleaf, so you can't fudge your way out of good, honest legwork. Or rather headwork."

"Oh well. Let me see the picture please. Are those real trees?"

"According to the chronicler, no. They were made from marble."

Rhys scanned the image. "It looks like the floor has something inlaid. A mosaic?"

"Yes, a sunset over a three-pronged leaf, done in gold and emerald."

Rhys' lips twisted into a humorless smile. "I think I've got my anchor," he said. Again, he drew energy, until his arms shook with the strain of keeping it contained. Fighting every inch of the way, he pressed his palms against the orb. For a few moments there was nothing but a painful flicker of colors and a noisy, distorted hiss but eventually the image cleared up. The first rays of dawn could be seen peeking through the treeline. At first, Rhys thought he had misplaced his "eye" but a quick look around showed him he was right where he wanted it. The floor of the formerly beautiful Hall of the Speakers was overgrown with grass, only a few places were barren, where nature hadn't found a way to punch through the tiles. The walls had crumbled and almost vanished, in parts due to roots and vines toppling them, in parts due to some extensive damage. Strange. Most of the stones are outside the walls, Rhys wondered. "Strange battle damage," he muttered, hopefully loud enough so Idunn could hear it.

"The elves would rather destroy their home than have intruders get their hands on it," Idunn explained, speaking slow and loud so that he could hear it. "Now, try to find the supply camp. It is to the north and east of Sunleaf proper."

Rhys maneuvered the "eye" until the light of dawn was to his right. Once he had his bearings, he caused it to rise like a bird. The feeling was exhilarating and unnerving at the same time. The ground fell away with nary a trace of exertion and soon he was zipping over the treetops. The forest was dense and thick, more like a jungle than the copses of trees he had searched mushrooms and berries in with Mirrin.

He could feel Idunn's hand on his thigh, her fingernails digging through the thin fabric of his robe. "Look to the right," she said. "See the smoke?"

Rhys blinked, focusing his gaze on the anomaly. A thick, black pillar of smoke rose into the sky. He willed the "eye" to fly closer. The trees thinned then vanished completely, showing a large, square set of wooden palisades in an artificial clearing. Black flags bore the axes-and-goat head crest of Carver.

And suddenly a stinging ache shot through his head. Rhys squealed and toppled off the chair. When his head hit the floor, everything went black.

* * * *

A ghastly smell reached into the depths of his unconsciousness, the aroma of old, wet stone, acid and some other ingredients he couldn't place. He shot awake.

"Shhh, slowly," Idunn murmured, steadying him. "You hit your head pretty hard." She sat on the edge of his bed, holding a hissing metal flask under his chin. The lights of the room's oil lamps threw brilliant highlights off her auburn hair. Half of her face was hidden in shadow, the other showed concern. The fumes emanating from the flask caused his eyes to water.

"What in the Burning Pits is that?" Rhys gasped, dispersing the fumes.

The dwarven sorceress grinned. "Stone water, a very good year."

"Huh?"

"A special kind of dwarven spirits. Strong enough to melt stones, so they say." Idunn sipped from the flask, cursed and replaced the stopper, her cheeks flushed with a wave of heat. "This stuff could almost raise the dead, as seen in your case."

"I didn't die, I hope?"

"No, you hit a very potent ward against scrying. While you recovered, I had a look myself."

"I could have used that warning beforehand," Rhys complained.

"Forgive me. I didn't expect such a potent defensive measure," Idunn said, clasping his hand.

"Don't tell me you too still believe that Carver doesn't know about us."

"I never said that, did I?" she replied, a bit testily. "Covering a sensitive area with a ward is common practice but I thought they might shelter only the commander's tent or their stash, not the whole damn encampment."

Rhys remembered something Moril had said earlier. "When Moril tried to support my wish for a mission, he said that by gauging the severity of Carver's response, we could glean something about the importance of the place."

Idunn grinned. "You couldn't ask for a better advocate, Rhys. Moril may be a bit gruff and stiff, even for an elf, but his mind is keener than many blades. He made a very valid point and once you've left, I'll be sure to let Thurguz know."

"Speaking of 'leaving,' how long have I been out?"

"It's almost sunrise." Idunn slid off the bed and claimed a flask off his desk. "Here. Drink this. Thankfully, you didn't hurt yourself too bad when you fell off the chair."

"Really? I fell unconscious."

"That was the feedback sent through the crystal ball. You landed rather softly so the worst you might have caught might be a concussion. I have found nothing wrong with your skull before I hauled you into bed. The healing potion should take care of any niggling problems."

Rhys uncorked the flask, the unpleasant aroma causing his mouth to pucker up. "Maybe Lishaka and Galdor should try that thing with better-tasting healing potions again." He sighed. "Down the hatch." He tilted his head back and drained the flask, trying not to let too much hit his tongue. It didn't work. Coughing, he handed the empty bottle back to Idunn.

"Medicine is supposed to taste bad," she said. "Otherwise people would rely too much on the easy way out instead of trying to prevent the damage in the first place." She returned to the desk and gathered her things. "Have you thought about who you want by your side?"

"Not yet. I wanted to gather information before deciding on my companions." Rhys folded back the covers. Idunn had stripped him down to his loincloth before she had tucked him in.

"I think you have enough to work on. Try it."

"One moment." Rhys ducked into the bathroom and shoveled a few handfuls of cool water in his face and over his body. Freshened up, he returned to his room. "Why is it that urgent all of a sudden?"

"Because I'm about to grab breakfast for you and your potential allies," Idunn said, standing by the door. "I think you should meet in the common room for a quick briefing before you surprise Thurguz with a fully-fledged plan of attack. And before I hobble down to the kitchen, I thought of surprising your soon-to-be-teammates with a rude awakening. So, who's it going to be?"

Rhys pondered his options. He was by no means an experienced commander, not even by a long shot, but he hoped that common sense would counter his lack of experience.

"How many people can I have? And is there anyone ineligible?"

"No matter how you're going to tackle the supply camp, it will be a hit-and-run affair, a quick and dirty in-and-out," Idunn said. "As such, a small team, no more than four, should work best." She massaged her chin. "I'll go out on a limb here and say 'feel free to take anyone,' save for two. Moril and Celeste. I don't have to tell you why."

"At least not for Celeste. She should rest some more," Rhys acknowledged. "Too bad, I would have liked Moril with me. He's the expert on the elven woods, after all."