CHAPTER 3: "WINDLOCKE"
“A traitor? Impossible.” Sir Roland’s tone betrayed his doubts regarding what Falkhoff had just told him.
“The gate was on its hinges and the portcullis was raised, yet the dead roamed the streets. It is as he says,” said Hans with quite some seriousness.
Roland stood up from his desk and peered out the narrow window of his office. “I have received a report of a possible sorcerer in the city.”
“There’s a sorcerer in Haganhalt?” replied Falkhoff in surprise. “I was under the impression that Lord von Reikmark banned magic.”
“He did, at the behest of the church. But you ought to know that a simple ban stops no one. The city gates was left open to all those that fled the dead. We simply didn’t have the manpower to vet every refugee. Plenty of opportunity for anyone to enter unnoticed.”
Hans’ eyes narrowed as he glared at Roland in accusatory fashion. “I could understand why a magician would want to see the city destroyed, considering what happened to the last man found practising magic.”
“What did happen to him?” asked Falkhoff curiously. Roland turned, looking down at his desk.
“He, along with his... uh, his family was tortured before being put to the flame.”
Falkhoff’s mouth hung agape. He knew Roland was cold, but he did not take him as being capable of something so heartless. Roland looked up and noticed Falkhoff’s dismay.
“It was the church that did it. Not I. Only got word of it once the deed was done.”
“And what was Reikmark’s stance on the matter?”
Roland looked to the side for a few moments in thought. He was clearly debating what to say. He sighed a breath that betrayed a hint of regret. “The city needed the church of light’s aid to survive the undead. Lord von Reikmark believed it best to keep them content.”
“I dislike witchcraft and the like as much as the next man, but you don’t go burning people who do nothing wrong. It isn’t right.” added Hans.
“I am inclined to agree. That is why I would like you two to find him before the church does. I’d like him alive to hear what he has to say. Whether guilty or innocent.”
Falkhoff collected his thoughts. He did not know much about the arcane arts, but he knew that knowledge is in no short supply to those who practice magic. Falhoff recognised the clear benefit to be gained from questioning this individual.
“Alright. We’ll find this sorcerer.”
“You best get on it right away. The church is already patrolling the streets in search of him. The witness who reported him is a blacksmith on market road. Henry he’s called.”
“I know him” interjected Hans. “He’s the one I have fixin’ up our weapons.”
“Let’s make haste then.” Falkhoff placed his hand on the hilt of his longsword and turned on his heel. He and Hans left the barracks of the city garrison, passing by deteriorating training yards, and made their way into the city.
They soon found themselves surrounded by the city folk going about their days. Their expressions were as dreary as the grey and wet weather. There were very little conversations being shared and everyone’s sleep deprived eyes stared down at the filthy and broken streets. Despite the density of the crowds, it was silent but for the treading of feet.
Falkhoff could not help but compare the current state of the city to his memory of it when he first visited Haganhalt with his father during his childhood. He remembered bustling crowds and cheery merchants. Wondering drunks loudly singing dirty songs in exchange for silver coins. Energetic dialogues about the most mundane of topics.
Falkhoff pondered the question of whether or not the city was already destroyed. While the buildings still stood and the people still lived, its soul had rotted away. Hope was in bleak absence.
The rhythmic sounds of footsteps was broken by a booming voice that echoed overhead. Falkhoff and Hans came across a dense crowd gathered around a small podium placed in a courtyard like area between buildings. The voice belonged to a man dressed in a white silk robe and tall hat. Falkhoff recognised him as a priest of the church of light.
“You are all blessed!” proclaimed the priest. “The Bringer of Light has seen fit to offer you the opportunity of an everlasting afterlife! Repent of your pagan ways before it is too late. If you pass from this world without his light within you, your soul will be doomed for all eternity! Only through him may you find salvation!”
“More than yesterday.” remarked Falkhoff while looking at the numbers that were gathered.
“How anybody could listen to this southern drivel is beyond me.” replied Hans coldly.
“People are desperate and afraid. They hope to find assurance here.”
“They can find assurance in the gods of their ancestors.”
“They know the city only stands because of the church. They see the church’s god fighting for them on the walls through his crusaders and priestesses. Where are our gods?”
“Our gods teach us to fight our own battles.”
“Hence why they’re listening to him. People think the gods have abandoned them, and it’s easy to see why.”
Falkhoff continued down the road. Hans took a moment to conjure up a thick spray of spittle which he released toward the priest before following behind.
The pair arrived at a street lined with various shops and stalls. All manners of food, trinkets and weapons were being traded. While the depressive atmosphere of the city still lingered, the back and forth negotiating created a somewhat social atmosphere. Falkhoff and Hans stepped onto a terrace that contained a furnace, raw metal and various unfinished and damage weapons. A rather burly man was at work at an anvil, shaping what looked to Falkhoff to be a new mace head. The smith paused his hammering and nodded a greeting toward Hans whom he clearly recognised.
“How you doin’ Henry,” greeted Hans with in a friendly and casual fashion.
“All good, just finishing up the Lord’s order then I’ll get to work on them pikes for ya.”
“There’s no hurry, we should have at least a week before the dead come again. This is my liege-lord Dietrich von Falkhoff. He would like to know about this sorcerer you encountered.”
“Aye. Bastard bewitched my daughter. I discovered him nude while conjuring a bird made of fire in Jenny’s room. He then vanished right before my eyes before I got the chance to smash his face in.”
“You said he bewitched your daughter?” started Falkhoff. “Could we have a word with her? Finding this magician is of some urgence.”
“Of course, my lord. Follow me and forgive the state of things. My home’s never had nobility roam its chambers, tis’ not quite prepared for it.”
Falkhoff and Hans followed the smith and he lead them into his house and up a flight of stairs. He knocked on a door and a women’s voice gave permission to enter. A girl no older than twenty sat upright upon a bed. Falkhoff noticed that she was attempting to conceal parchment under her pillow.
“Hello. Jenny, was it?” asked Falkhoff while sitting down on a nearby chair. The girl Nodded. “Your father tells me that you were bewitched. We would like to hear the details of it as it may help us find the culprit.”
“To arrest him?” Jenny snapped. Her eyes were wide.
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“If he’s guilty of the crime you say he is, yes. If it wouldn’t be too painful, I would like to hear how you came to be bewitched by him.”
Falkhoff spotted Jenny’s eyes dart to her father then back to him. “I... I was running some errands for my father. When he-” she paused. “-When he approached as a black cat. He then transformed in front of me into a hideous scarred man with the eyes of a beast. He said some horrible words then I fell under his control. I lost all memory of what had happened till after my father scared him away.”
“I see...” Falkhoff had heard false stories before, but never one so ridiculous as the one Jenny had told. “Hans, why don’t you run Henry through weapon order again.”
Hans took Falkhoff’s meaning as he hoped he would and escorted the smith back down the stairs. When Falkhoff heard their voices emanate from outside the window, he turned back to Jenny and edged his seat closer to her.
“Now, how about you tell me what actually happened?”
Jenny’s lips pursed. A subtle hint of panic was visible in her chaotic expression.
“Please don’t arrest him!” she finally spewed. Tears fell from her eyes. “He didn’t really bewitch me. I’m in love with him and I... Invited him to my bed. Magic had nothing to do with it. Please sir, he doesn’t deserve to be burned! He was just showing me some magic spells for fun.”
Falkhoff paused to think of the correct words to say. “If he’s innocent of any wrongdoing, no harm will come to him. I swear it.”
“Well, he isn’t completely innocent.”
“What do you mean?”
“He cheats, you see.”
Falkhoff cleared his throat. “On you?”
“No! Not on me. He cheats in games. He uses magic when he gambles. But surely that doesn’t justify killing him!”
“We suspect far greater crimes than cheating at gambling.”
“Then it wasn’t him. He’s not perfect, but he’s sweet and charming, and very caring. He likes to use his magic to help the sick and hurt. He doesn’t ask for anything in return nor brag about it, he just does it. Surely a man like that can’t have done what you think he did.”
“Possibly not, but we have to question him regardless. Do you know where I might find him?”
Falkhoff noted the hesitation in her blank and tearful expression. He thought it best to be honest about the urgency of the situation in the hopes that she would see that aiding him was in her lover’s best interest.
“The church is searching for him as well. If they find him before we do, well, you know what they do to magicians.”
“You promise you won’t hurt him?” Jenny’s voice was soft and broken. Falkhoff could see she felt the shame of betrayal already. He however had no intention of forcing her to betray anyone.
“If you help us find him, I promise you that I will do all I can to prevent harm to him.” Falkhoff glared deeply into her eyes. He did not make promises lightly, and intended to respect the one he just made no less than any other oath. He did however hope he wouldn’t regret his promise as he often did.
“He performs at the Runaway Fox inn, His show would have started around now.” Jenny looked down. A soft whimper followed.
Falkhoff laid his hand on hers. “We’ll find him, and he’ll be alright.”
Jenny nodded and Falkhoff stood up. Before he left the room, he turned back as a thought came to him turned back. “That note? May I ask what is contains.”
“Oh!” Jenny sheepishly procured it from under her table and handed it to Falkhoff. “It’s a poem. It's from him.”
Falkhoff observed the words. It read, “to my dearest Jenny. My heart is yours from now till forever after. All I long for is your touch and your laughter. Once the day is past, meet me for a night that will last.”
Falkhoff barely contained his laughter. He passed the note back to Jenny with a smile and made his way downstairs and out the house. He gestured at Hans who then approached.
“And?”
“The Runaway Fox.”
“Urgh, their ale taste like horse piss.”
The pair marched through the city to the inn. When they got there, they spotted a party of well armed and armoured men questioning the surrounding city folk. Falkhoff recognised them as crusaders belonging to the church. They were lead by a women dressed in black and white whom he realized was the sister of light that held the gatehouse with him and his men the previous night. Falkhoff felt a sent of anxiety as he realized that they were as close to finding the sorcerer as he was. He thought it best that get the magician away from the inn as swiftly as he could.
They entered the inn and found themselves surrounded by clapping and cheering by a dense crowd. It was as if the city’s woes did not exist within the inn’s walls. In stark contrast to the streets, everyone looked happy and joyful. Falkhoff glanced to the front stage and took note of the man that stood singing and playing a lute.
Falkhoff admitted to himself that he was quite handsome. He wore colourful red and black garb and a long coat of a rich blue color. A wide-brimmed cavalier hat with a white plume sat atop his head. He had a well trimmed anchor beard and moustache.
Falkhoff then noticed something strange. The man was playing only a lute and no other musicians were present., yet he heard strings, flutes and bagpipes play in harmony. The room was small and packed, but the man’s warm and melodic voice seemed to reverberate all around as if in an amphitheatre.
The fashionable performer transitioned into a lute solo, displaying a level of skill that put Falkhoff’s own humble talents to shame. In fact, it put everyone Falkhoff had ever heard to shame. Falkhoff would not have believed such a fiery performance possible. So fiery was it, that the lute itself began to catch fire. But wait, that can’t be possible. Falkhoff turned to meet Hans’ own expression of confusion and recognised that he had the same realization. They were seeing, for the first time, the usage of magic.
As the performance came to an end, the audience erupted in a celebration the likes of which Falkhoff had not witnessed since before the undead appeared.
“Thank you! You’ve all been wonderful” shouted the bard over the crowd. With a snap of his fingers, he made a rose appear from nothing and handed it to a nearby girl with a wink. This caused envy among those around her and Falkhoff observed as a cat-fight ensued while each tried to win the rose by right of conquest, men and women alike.”
The man then descended from the stage while shaking many hands and receiving many pats on the back. He took his seat at the front table and casually gestured to the innkeeper who promptly passed him a drink. Falkhoff and Hans squeezed their way through the packed inn and arrived at the bard’s side.
“Excuse me, sir.” stated Falkhoff, louder than he otherwise would.”
The bard spotted the golden coin stamped with the image of a hawk that held Falkhoff’s cloak in place.
“You’re lord von Falkhoff!” he proclaimed.
“I am indeed. And you are?” replied Falkhoff.
“Magnus Windlocke, The most talented bard that ever did and ever will live.” Magnus stood from his seat and gave a rather elegant bow. Falkhoff heard Hans’ scoff from behind his shoulder. A feeling he shared.
“Right then, Windlocke. I have to ask that you come with us.”
“Whatever for?”
“The captain of the guard would like to have a word.”
“I see.” Magnus paused in thought for a moment. “I suppose I have no choice, may I get my lute before we go?”
Falkhoff nodded and watched as the well dressed man made his way back to the stage and gathered up his instrument. Falkhoff then gawked in disbelief as Magnus winked at him and casually exited through a back door.
“Bugger! He’s running!” proclaimed Falkhoff and he and Hans hurried after him. They had a hard time pushing through the packed room in their attempt to quickly reach the back exit that the musician took. They did eventually reach it and sprinted into the city streets, but Magnus was nowhere to be seen. Falkhoff turned toward the nearest bystander. An old man selling carrots from his wheeled stand.
“The bard! Where’d the bard go!?”
“You mean Magnus Windlocke?”
“Yes!”
“THE Magnus Windlocke?”
“For Frigg’s sake, YES!”
“He went that way, he seemed to be in quite a hurry.”
Falkhoff and Hans continued in the direction that the old man pointed in. They followed meandering alleyways before stumbling into Magnus who was paused at what looked like a dead end.
“You’re coming with us!” commanded Falkhoff.
Magnus giggled. “I think not!” He then conjured tall flames in his hands. “Behold! You challenge a mighty magician!”
“Halt!” cried a feminine Frankish voice from behind Falkhoff and Hans. They turned to see six crusaders and the sister of light standing at the only exit of the alleyway. Magnus’ flame-filled hands were in clear view of them.
“You fool!” shouted Hans, “we know you practice magic, we were trying to keep you from the damned church!”
“That man is a foul conjurer of dark magic!” proclaimed the priestess, “he must be handed to the church to suffer due punishment for his sins!”
Falkhoff stepped forward. “We are under Sir Roland’s orders to bring the mage to him.”
“It is the church’s duty and right to root out witches and enchanters wherever they may be. We will take him.” The priestess gestures at the crusaders who draw their swords and begin to approach Falkhoff, Hans and Magnus.
With the promise he made to the girl clear in his mind, Falkhoff drew his longsword. “I am the lord of the fallen freehold of Falkstadt. I don’t recognise your authority. This man is under my custody.”
“Trouble it is then,” remarked Hans as he drew his own arming sword.
“Those that would defend evil deserve naught but death,” stated the Priestess in a fashion far too casual for Falkhoff’s liking. She conjured an orb of light in her hand and tossed it toward Falkhoff.
Falkhoff braced himself for the pain he was about to feel, but some sort of magical barrier formed in front of him. The magical shield bounced the beam of light back toward the priestess. She ducked out the way and it impacted a cart containing various carrots which exploded with a very loud boom.
“MY CARROTS!” cried an old man.
Falkhoff looked back and noticed Magnus tilting his hat toward him.
“I don’t suppose you got any fancy magic trick to get us out of this mess!” asked Hans.
“I actually do! You best prepare yourselves.”
“What did you sa-.” Before Hans could finish his sentence. They suddenly found themselves somewhere different than where they were just a moment before. Falkhoff felt an extreme dizziness right before the contents of his stomach spewed forth onto the cobbled floor.
Falkhoff heard Hans exclaim, “Freya’s sweet mercy!” between pukes and recognised that he suffered the same affliction.
“I did warn you to prepare yourselves,” Magnus slyly said as he casually dusted off his blue coat.
Once Falkhoff recovered, he approached Magnus. “The church now knows your face and will very much be on the lookout for you. If you value your unburned flesh, I suggest you come with us.”
“You drew your sword in my defence. I suppose I owe you my trust, if only for the moment. Lead the way!”