“Thank you, Reena,” said Lia to the daughter of the innkeeper who’d prepared a delicious breakfast for them. Reena was a small Maharian woman with ample breasts and a lovely smile. Lia wasn’t like Darim, but she could admire a pretty woman like Reena. She kept her thoughts of attraction to herself. Darim on the other hand…

“Same clothes?” she asked.

“Yes, I happen to like this coat,” he said. “Though, I wouldn’t mind a longer one.”

“What’s the point of a bath, then?”

“I’ll be fine.”

‘I won’t,” grunted Lia.

Darim and Frane took their seats and Reena served them their meals.

“Hello, there,” said Darim, eyeing Reena. Lia hid a groan and a quick roll of her eyes.

Reena and Darim began talking as he ate. He regaled her with tales of his time as a caravan guard. Arc! Could he just hurry up?!

When Darim and Frane were done with their food—and before Reena became absolutely smitten with Darim, Lia yanked Darim away by his collar. She tossed a few gold pieces to Reena who glared at them in shock.

“Keep the change. Now, come on.”

“Hey, now,” said Darim. “I think she liked me.”

“Reena is an innocent girl, and doesn’t need a scoundrel like you ruining her life,” said Lia.

“You liked her too,” laughed Darim. “Come on now, admit it.”

Lia resisted the temptation to punch Darim.

Frane followed behind her, but Darim tailed not far behind to keep an eye on him. She trusted him enough with his reflexes to ensure Frane didn’t hurt her. She still felt a cold shiver of panic whenever he made any sudden moves like coughing or scratching his head.

The three walked down the barren streets. Only a few beggars lined the area. She hadn’t even noticed them last time. Could they have seen the fight from the night before? Surely one of them would have called them out or said something.

No, the beggars are the eyes and ears of the people. They see much unbeknownst to the people they watch.

She felt a cold shiver again down her spine, but it was not because of Frane’s movements. It was the fact that someone might know they have Frane, and know where they were headed now. Or she did not reveal that. Darim was likely too lazy to ask, and just followed. She halted.

“What’s wrong?” asked Darim.

She turned to face him and asked him to huddle close. “The beggars might have seen what happened.”

Darim nodded as if he was thinking the same thing. “Give me some gold.”

“Gold?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

She rummaged through her pack and fished him out several coins.

He strode over with Frane in tow and began speaking to the beggars. She drew closer to hear.

“This coin is for you people to divide,” he said.

One beggar nodded, a hallowed look in his eyes. He lay bundled in a ball of ragged clothes. Darim tossed him the coin. The beggars began to inch closer. “This coin is to ensure everyone gets a meal in the coming days.”

The beggars nodded more eagerly as they crawled closer with their hands out. Darim threw them the coin.

“This coin is to ensure you actually give everyone equal share.”

“We promise,” they said hungrily.

He tossed them the coin and they began discussing how to split the money.

“And this,” said Darim after a moment. He held out a few more. They all turned to him, desperation and awe in their eyes. “is to make sure no one hears of what happened on this street last night. Stay away from those bodies.”

They all nodded, their faces darkening at the prospect of corpses.

Darim tossed them the coins one by one. They began distributing it as well as they could. As they did so, they began moving locations.

Darim stood beside Lia as they watched the beggars scramble off.

Lia was impressed, but she wondered why they were moving.

Darim sensed her curiosity and answered. “They don’t want to be caught here. Anyone questioning would know they saw it as that is where they beg.”

“And the beggars that choose this place next?”

“Beggars are smart. If they see this place empty, they will question why.”

“Really?” asked Lia. She was skeptical about the level of thought that would go into a begging location.

“This place is a common gathering point. Beggars see a great many things, so when they see it barren, they’ll guess the ones here saw something and the new beggars don’t want to be suspected as witnesses.”

“How do you know this?”

“There was half a year where I didn’t find any work. I had to find money to eat somehow.”

Lia pursed her lips, and Darim waved his hands to have her keep moving.

Lia led Darim and Frane to where she wanted to go. “You must be wondering why we’re headed outside the city walls.”

“I’ve learned to accept things as they come, to be frank with you.”

“Well, we are going to meet an old man,” she said.

“And who is this old man?”

“He’s a mage.”

Darim grumbled.

“Oh, hush. He’s a good man... in his own way. And he is very knowledgeable.”

“How do you know where to find him?”

Where should I start? With the encoded clues in the volumes upon volumes this man has written? Most notably her recent puzzle regarding his many homes in the continent with clues to find more clues to figure out which home he went to if he was absent. This man is clever, but I am Lia Terell, a Relic Hunter. I found your patterns, old man. And now I deserve a meeting with you.

“I just know,” she said. “It would go over your head.”

She could almost feel his eyes rolling without having to look.

“He will be an hour’s ride from the city walls,” she said. “So let us get our horses.”

Darim patted Frane on the back. “Looks like you’re riding with me, good friend.”

“I have my own horse I tracked you here with.”

“We wouldn’t want you running off, now would we?” Darim let out a light laugh.

We have no ranged weapons, and I’d have to kill him with magic if he attempted to escape.

“Agreed,” said Frane.

The man was awfully quiet now, but oddly subservient.

The three mounted and rode off for the city, leaving behind silvers for the stable master. The guards allowed them to leave despite the youth of the day. The sun barely crept over the eastern horizon over forests and hills.

The ride lasted for an hour until they reached a small woods by a lake. Lia reined her horse to a halt and dismounted. Darim and Frane followed suit.

“We walk on foot from here,” she said. “Lead your horses.”

They followed her through the woods, passing barren trees coated with layers of frost. The snow hadn’t stuck, but now as flakes fell, she could see it would today. They moved further into the forest, beside them a pane of ice over a frozen lake.

“We’ll find him in a small home of stone,” she said.

“I see one there, blue boy,” said Frane, pointing to a hill. Through the trees, indeed a small stone hut peaked through the trees with smoke billowing from its chimney.

“Good eye, Frane,” said Darim with another pat on the back. “Let’s go!”

Helpful, Lia noted in her mind.

“Let me do the talking,” said Lia. “And stay further back. I don’t know if he’ll like so many people.”

“This seems suspicious,” said Darim. “Should I be afraid?”

“No,” snapped Lia. She cleared her throat. I hope. This man is supposed to be rational.

She rapped her knuckles in the given pattern of the code she found in the books. Genius! This man actually took the time to encode such intricate directions. Either he was fond of puzzles or he deemed himself so important as to require a test of intellect to find him. She hoped the latter, because more likely than not, he’d be worth the effort.

The door opened to reveal a man bearing a circle beard peppered with black and hair salted with silver. His wrinkled face bore a set of weary, weathered eyes. Oven mitts covered his hands, and his grinning face sat a layer of soot.

“Come inside, come inside!” he said. “The muffins are almost done!”

****

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“So you’re him?” said Lia. “You’re Otto?”

“Yes, my dear,” said the wise mage that Lia wanted to meet. He bore the features of a cheery old grandfather who’d have baked Darim a cake if he wanted to. How had she found him here? “I’m Otto,” said the old man. “Not what you expected?”

“I expected a battle mage that fought the Triscourge,” said Lia.

This man was a war hero, then, thought Darim.

“And what do you think I do? Sleep in my armor and carry a sword like I’m always at war? In my free time, when I’m not saving the world, I bake. Now sit down, and tell me how it tastes.” He handed everyone a steaming-hot muffin, even one for Frane.

“Thank you, sir.” Lia eyed the muffin suspiciously.

Darim didn’t trust him either. What were the chances this man was an assassin that killed the real Otto? He fingered his sword-spear. The real Otto could have been whisked off or even killed, and this man could be feeding them poison.

“You eat them first, good man,” said Darim with a feigned mask of courtesy.

Otto shrugged and stuffed one into his mouth, oblivious. He immediately gagged. Darim gripped his weapon. It was poisoned! Are they willing to die to get to Lia? Why didn’t he attack earlier?

“Oh, dear.” Otto gulped the entire muffin and downed it with water.

Darim and Lia exchanged looks.

“That was the worst recipe yet,” said Otto. “Don’t try those muffins, children. They might as well be poisoned.”

Darim felt a shiver run down his spine.

Otto’s eyes twinkled as he moved over and handed them biscuits in a bowl. He took a handful and began eating them as if to show they weren’t poisoned. He smiled and pushed the bowl closer to Darim.

“Try the biscuits,” he said. “Much better.”

Darim gave the old man a knowing smile and obliged.

“So,” he said. “Why are you three here?”

Lia cleared her throat and sat straighter.

Fates, she was trying to impress this man. Who was he?

“Well, sir, I am a Relic Hunter,” she said.

Otto raised his brow. “Ah, really? We’re finding more of those nowadays.”

“The world changed after the Triscourges.”

“Yes, and no,” chuckled Otto. “The world faced another conflict, but we are still our same warring selves.”

Lia nodded, blushing. “Yes, but our need for better warfare has us vying for these Relics.”

“Not all of us,” he said. “Some still believe it’s not worth it. Some still have faith in their mages, or what is left of them.”

“The world will change faster than they think,” said Lia. “Wars will be fought with these Relics.”

‘Eventually,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes again. That eerie mixture of knowing, but feigning ignorance. “So which Relic do you hunt for?”

“The Holler of Souls,” said Lia.

Otto’s face grew grim and he nodded. “An interesting pick for one so young. Others have tried. Even the Older Hunters could not succeed. Two of them I assume you have heard of?”

“Maxius, and Miles,” said Lia.

Who in the world were they?

“The two are famed for their Hunts. Miles is old now, and he rests to the northeast in Vrodia, but Maxius? He has not lost the thirst for adventure.”

Darim leaned forward, intrigued. My kind of man.

“He will likely not stop till the fool man kills himself. He is not as wise as Miles, who got out before the game took his life.”

Lia nodded. “I want to follow him in that game. I will need his notes. His work. Whatever he can offer to me.”

“You will have to find him yourself, dear,” said Otto. “I haven’t seen him in months.”

Lia leaned forward. “Where was the last time, sir?”

“Why, here,” he said. “Just up north of here to be exact. He was headed to Ingstad.”

Darim groaned. “It’s so damn cold up there.”

“We will go if we need to, yes,” said Lia, shooting Darim a glare. “That is not why we came here, however. We need direction. The Holler of Souls is mysterious. No one even knows what it actually is, much less where it is.”

“Exactly, dear,” said Otto. “And you won’t find any better information from Maxius than rumors and theories. Some say it’s an orb, others a goblet, others a bloody wall!” He chuckled.

“What do you think it is?” asked Darim. “There’s got to be some idea.”

“I think it’s bloody not worth the trouble. And there are darker forces after the orb than you and me.”

“Dire Mages,” said Lia with a rage in her voice.

Frane groaned. “What did I get myself into? I just needed to finish one more job.”

“Such is life, my friend,” said Otto. “Oh, silly me! We haven’t shared names!”

Darim tipped his hat. “Name’s Darim.”

“Lia, sir.”

“Frane,” grunted the thug.

“And I’m Otto!” he laughed to himself. “Who found me? Was it you, dear?”

Lia beamed with pride and nodded. “Yes, sir. And might I say, it was ingenious how you did that? It was a struggle.”

“And good that I did that. I don’t want everyone finding me. Only those who’re desperate enough to grind through hours worth of code.” He again gave that knowing look. “And you are desperate, aren’t you?”

“I need your research, sir. I…” She gave Darim and Frane a wary look. “It’s personal.”

Darim scowled. Did she not trust him? What could be in her past that she wanted to hide so well? Siril would have loved you. She wanted mystery in a lover. Too bad she’s into men.

Otto gave an understanding look and stood up, beckoning for Lia to follow. “I don’t wish to rummage through my research,” he said with a helpless look. “I’m a lazy old man. But you, my dear, can take your time in my tomes. As long as you need. I’ll keep you three fed and quenched of thirst. This place is safe, I assure you. No thug or assassin would be clever or desperate enough to trace me.” His face winced. “At least, I hope so.”

Lia gave him a gracious grin.

Lia? Thankful? Fates, she practically worships him!

She followed him into a cellar, and Darim couldn’t help but tighten his grip on his weapon. If he heard a scream, a thump, a thud, anything at all, he would rush in there. This man was cunning. Just like Iniko. He remembered the man who trained him, and had always instilled the importance of cunning in a fight.

Thankfully, no such noise came. However, magic could have hidden the sounds. Otto climbed back up the stairs breathing heavily.

“It truly is a trek and a half going down and up for me,” he said.

He has to be feigning.

“Lia,” called Darim. “Reply if you can hear me.”

Otto was not insulted; he simply raised his brow.

Lia’s voice came from below, slightly muffled. “I’m fine, Darim. It’s a large bunker. And very deep down.”

Darim relaxed and sighed.

“You care for her,” said Otto.

“She’s my responsibility.”

“Her bodyguard?”

“Yes.”

Otto nodded, though he likely didn’t know the extent of how closely bound Darim was to the contract. Darim wondered if he’d still stay if it weren’t for the bond.

“So,” said Otto to break the silence. “She’ll be down there for a while, no doubt. Perhaps for a few days, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“How big is the collection?” asked Darim.

“It’s a section of my life’s work—the rest belonging to other hideouts—though I had scribes etch out multiple copies of some of my most important works for my homes across the world.”

“And how many homes do you have?”

Otto jutted his finger out at Darim, making the young man flinch. “That is not for you to know till you earn it.” Humor glinted in his eyes at the flinching Darim. “You still don’t trust me.”

“I don’t trust magic,” said Darim.

“Wise,” said Otto. “It was made to kill and maim. I would know.” A flicker of darkness passed over the old man’s face for only a moment.

“You fought in the Triscourge,” said Darim. Not a question; A statement. Darim expected to hear from the man what he saw, did, and experienced.

“I did,” said Otto.

“I expected more...well, more from a man of such a legendary time.”

“Legendary,” scoffed Otto. “More like the worst time to be alive.”

“Those kinds of tales often become legends.”

“That they do,”

“So tell your legends. Your adventures.”

Darim held a fierce desire in his eyes. They were like hungry predators eyeing fresh meat dangling from a hook. Otto possessed a wealth of stories from his time as a general in the Triscourge. The experiences he must have had. Fates damn me, I wouldn’t be surprised if he knows how to use an actual weapon besides just his magic. His eyes swept around the room, and landed on a weapon leaning against the cobbled wall.

A sword-spear.

Darim’s eyes shone with shock.

Otto must have followed his gaze. “Sword-spears, or glaives as many call them, are underappreciated weapons.”

“I agree,” said Darim. “Swords are all the rave nowadays.”

“I thought it was axes,” said Otto.

Darim shook his head. “So… you were going to tell me about those adventures.”

“Right, my adventures,” said Otto, pondering on the last word. He smiled like it reminded him of a fond memory. “I had a friend once who used that word just as boyishly as you use yours.”

Darim’s face flushed. “I…you’re right. It’s just a good word. Doesn’t apply to war, of course.”

“No, no,” said Otto. “It is okay. Boys look for a place in the world.”

Darim frowned.

“My time in the war was dreadful. No other way to put it. If I wasn’t blasting Grokians and Tyrnati into oblivion, I was tasked with other utilities: healing the soldiers, commanding the lot or giving them a boost of morale with Blue. I exhausted myself of Mind, Body, and Soul. All three sources, all three colors, all day, everyday. Only 3-4 hours of sleep till I was back at the front in the morning. I was given one meal every 4 days before I slept. Green did the rest of sustenance for me.”

Otto bore a scowl as he continued.

“The hordes were unending. The sky was red as fire and smoke bled into the sky to remove what little hope we had in looking at the sunrise. Days became night, and nights the Void itself. Koor was unleashed on our world, but we stood strong and kept fighting.”

Darim was in awe. This way this man spoke emanated danger, sorrow, and experience. How many wars could he have seen besides the Triscourge. He wondered if he had journal entries about his adv—about his war campaigns. Suddenly, he felt envious that Lia was down in the library with full access to all Otto’s works. Of course, she’ll choose only the ones related to the Relic.

“Thank you for telling me this,” said Darim.

“I just said what every soldier would say, boy,” grumbled Otto. “Don’t know what else you learned.”

‘It was the way you said it. It was...compelling, I suppose.” Fates, I’m stupid.

Otto snorted in mirth. “I suppose. But tell me about yourselves. Frane, you’ve been awfully quiet. Are you her bodyguard as well?”

“No,” said Frane. He licked his lips and shifted in his seat. “I was sent to kill them.”

Otto flinched and eyed Darim “And what, pray tell, makes you not bind this man and gag him. You aren’t in public now. And you,” said Otto, facing Frane. “Explain to me what keeps you so loyal as to not attack your captors and escape.”

Frane shrugged. “Where would I go, sir? I failed my mission. A powerful man sent me. He’d just kill me if I returned.”

“Hmm,” said Otto. “Don’t call me, sir.” Otto’s eyes glinted in that mirthful manner. “Otto will do. I’ll have to tell the girl the same thing.”

“She admires you,” said Darim.

“That she does.”

A silence passed.

“Well,” said Otto. “I hope you are a man to trust, Frane. But either way, I won’t rest easy tonight knowing you are under my roof till you are tied and gagged.”

Darim tensed, waiting to see Frane’s reaction. To his surprise the man laid his hands out facing upward. “You’re fine with this?” asked Darim.

There was pain in his eyes. “I am a bad man, blue boy. I deserve no better.”

Fates, were those tears?

Otto shrugged and tied the man with rope Darim gave him. “I will rest soundly now.”

Frane nodded, quivering. “Thank you for the food, sir.”

Otto patted the man on his shoulder. “Either a clever act or a man seeking redemption.” Otto walked past him and glared out the window. He watched the birds chirp as the snow billowed. “Only time will tell.”

Frane sobbed into his plate, and Darim couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man.