Tortilladas, the 19th of Lost Speed, 4E 201

“Welcome to High Healthspa Academy!” came the voice of a young woman as they stepped into the dark vestibule. She was a Breton as best as Kharla could make out. Shorter and younger than Mell, and dressed in what looked like a practical but smart tunic and leggings, both in black. She held a thin wooden board with a sheet of paper clasped to it. “May I see your ticket?”

Kharla produced the ticket the courier had given them and the Breton took it from her. “Ah, yes. And which one of you is the Dragonbore?”

Kharla indicated toward Thral. The young Breton looked at him and then at the board in her hand. “Right.” She turned to Thral. “Hello, I’m Jess and I’ll be your backstage help today. Now, if you could follow me. You’re on next.”

Thral followed the Breton girl to the end of the vestibule and Kharla, a frown on her face, followed along with the others. A well-lit chamber, though still of the same black stone, opened up before them. It consisted of a stone floor and, at the far end, four squat stone columns that tapered up into what looked like the backs of four carven thrones.

On the vestibule wall next to them a green light suddenly flared up. At first, Kharla thought it was one of Mell’s orbs, but it soon became clear the light was embedded in the wall.

“All right, that’s you!” said Jess as she urged Thral out into the chamber. In the middle of the floor lay a four-by-four square of decorated flagstones. Jess had Thral stand in the center of these flagstones where a white ‘X’ had been painted. “Good luck!”

The Breton rejoined Kharla and the others.

“Erm,” Kharla began. “What’s he supposed to do?”

“Why, use the power of the Voice, of course. It’s been a while since we had a Dragonbore here,” replied the Breton. “It’s very exciting!”

“Mell, try that light again, like at the bridge in Ivor’s Shed,” said Kharla.

Mell wove the orb into existence and then moved it in front of Thral’s face. Thral put his hand to his nose.

“Ahhh!” Thral sounded, a sneeze building in his nasal chamber. Kharla watched the Nord’s back as his torso tensed and finally released. “Ahhh…Fohs!”

The sneeze blasted out, shattering Mell’s orb, rocking the four columns and shaking the whole chamber. Books and pots flew through the air, one large terracotta urn narrowly missing Jess’s head. Then, as the blast subsided, the four columns lit up at their bases and turned around to reveal four men in gray seated upon four stone chairs. Beneath each chair words now glowed in the stone that read ‘I Want You’.

“Splendid!” announced the man in the far left chair. “A little unorthodox, but splendid all the same!”

“Four chairs turned,” whispered Jess to Kharla. “That’s not happened for—well, for a very long time.”

The man who’d addressed Thral stood. He was dressed in long robes as gray as his hair. His beard consisted of a series of long projections that thrust out to some distance, working their way about his face, each ending in a neat curl. “I am Master Arnie. I speak for the Greatbeards. My fellow Greatbeards have taken a vow of silence.”

“They are powerful in the Voice,” said Jess to Kharla and the others. “They say that even a whisper from them can kill.”

“I had a girlfriend like that once,” said Draloth.

Master Arnie turned to his fellow Greatbeards. “In the second chair, you will see Master Wilf.”

Master Wilf stood and bowed his head. He had a ginger beard that wrapped itself like a huge snake around his neck before working its way down the side of his gray robes.

“In the third chair is Master Enuf.”

The man in the third chair stood and bowed his head. His brown beard couldn’t be distinguished from the hair on his head as it had been cut to look like a single mane of facial hair, perhaps to mimic a lion, though Kharla thought he looked more like a flower than a lion.

“And the last is Master Barry.”

The man in the fourth chair stood and bowed. His blond beard sprouted many ringlets on either side, grown in concentric circles.

“Together we are the Greatbeards,” Master Arnie continued, “followers of the Voice, Master Beard Groomers, and joint owners of the High Healthspa Wellness Center. You stand in the Academy of High Healthspa, on the slopes of Kindeath’s sacred mountain. Here we commune with the Voice of the Sky—well, when we’re not judging auditions for would-be bards, that is.” He looked around at the ceiling and walls. “The reality is that we need the extra income these days. Takes a lot to maintain a place as large as this.”

He caught the impatient stares of the other Greatbeard and carried on. “Yes, anyway, we are here to guide you, Dragonbore, as we have always sought to guide those with the Dragon Blood. We are honored to welcome you and will do our best to teach you how to use your gift in fulfilment of your destiny. Now, what say you? Maybe you could start with your name, which perhaps I should have asked earlier?”

Thral scratched his head. He seemed to be examining the Greatbeards. “Funny beards.”

Kharla stepped forward out of the vestibule before the Breton girl could say anything.

“And who are you?” said Master Arnie as he spotted her. “Orcs have tried to audition here before, you know. But it’s no use. Orcs just can’t sing. We’ve wasted countless days over the years listening to your kind, but not a single one of them could carry a tune. So we had to ban them. We even sent word to the Strongholds and the Bard’s College. No more Orcs.”

“I’m not here for an audition. I’m Kharla Ironback, official representative of the Dragonbore.”

“An agent?”

“Well, she’s more of a spokesperson,” Draloth said, stepping forward out of the dark vestibule. “I’m more what you call his agent.”

“Are there any more of you back there?”

Eilgird came forward. “Eilgird, Sir. Representing Jarl Baldgoof’s sponsorship interests in the Dragonbore.”

Mell came forward. “I’m Mell Onkolea. Erm, the Dragonbore’s facilitator.”

Ti’lief crept forward. “Ti’lief, at your service. This one wonders if you are looking for a cleaner?”

“I’ll get back to you about the cleaning opportunity,” Master Arnie began, kicking a pot out of the way. “But as to the matter at hand, Kharla Ironback, the person for whom you speak has the inborn gift. But does he have the discipline, temperament, and intelligence to follow the path laid out for him?”

“Ah, probably not,” said Kharla.

“But working as a team, we can overcome any challenge,” added Draloth.

“That remains to be seen,” said Master Arnie.

“Will you be sponsoring the Dragonbore?” asked Draloth. “I’m thinking five hundred gold.”

“We have little gold here, Dark Elf,” Master Arnie explained. “Though we can offer lifetime supplies of soaps and certain beard-grooming products.”

“What do you know about dragons?” asked Kharla, trying to get the conversation back to what was important. Namely, vengeance.

“Ah, we need to back up a bit before we get to that,” said Master Arnie. “Let me explain. Without any training, Thral has already taken the first steps towards projecting his Voice into a Boo’m, a Shout—or, in his case, a Sneeze. Now let us see if he is willing and able to learn. When he sneezes these Shouts he speaks in the language of the dragons. Thus his Dragon Blood gives him this inborn ability to learn Words of Power. All Shouts are made up of three Words of Power. As he masters each Word, his Shout will become progressively stronger.”

“Master Enuf will now teach him ‘Goh’, the second word in ‘Upending Force’. ‘Goh’ means ‘move’ in the dragon tongue. Combine it with ‘Fohs’—meaning ‘enemies’—to focus the Boo’m more sharply.”

Master Enuf stepped forward and projected a Shout onto the ground. Kharla and the others watched as the word ‘Goh’ appeared on the flagstones in glowing letters.

“Thral can’t read,” said Kharla.

“Oh, right.” Master Arnie frowned and then turned to consult with the others, then realized that they couldn’t answer his question because they’d taken vows of silence. “Well, um. I’m at a bit of a loss…”

“Maybe if we all repeat the word over and over it will get into his head?” said Draloth.

So Master Arnie and Thral’s companions started chanting at the Nord. Even Jess joined in. “Goh. Goh. Goh. Goh.”

Thral looked upset, put his head down, and started to walk back toward the door. “Enough!”

Master Enuf lifted his head but then realized the context.

“No, Thral!” said Kharla. “We’re not asking you to go. Stay! You need to learn the word ‘Goh’. Do you think you can say it?”

“Goh!” said Thral, and the word disappeared from the ground.

“He learns a new word like a master…well, a somewhat slow master, but it’s good enough,” said the Greatbeard. “However, this is only the first step. He must unlock its meaning through constant practice to use it in a Shout. Well, that’s how the rest of us learn Shouts. As Dragonbore, he can absorb a slain dragon’s life force and knowledge directly.”

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Master Arnie indicated toward Master Enuf again. “As part of his initiation, Master Enuf will allow Thral to tap into his understanding of ‘Goh’.”

Master Enuf breathed in, his head raising like a brown-petaled flower in the new day’s sun, and, as he breathed out, the same rush of wind and colors flowed about him as Kharla had seen come from the slain dragon at the western watchtower. The wind and swirling colors rushed into Thral, causing the Nord’s eyes to open wide.

“Now let us see how quickly he can master his new Boo’m,” said Master Arnie.

The three other Greatbeards took up points around the floor.

“Thral must use his ‘Upending Force’ Shout to strike the targets as they appear. Each will be an apparition drawn from the memory of the last book each Greatbeard read.”

Master Barry raised his hands and summoned an apparition to the ‘X’ on the floor, just a few strides from where Thral stood. The ghostly being looked like a pirate, complete with a parrot on its shoulder. “Argh!” it said.

Thral grabbed his warhammer and struck at the summoned apparition, but the weapon passed right through it with no effect other than to spin Thral round.

“No, Thral,” said Kharla. “You need to Shout—I mean sneeze—at it.” She turned to Mell. “That’s where you come in again with your orb.”

Mell wove a ball of light into being before Thral’s nose and then upped the intensity of the light until Thral sneezed again.

“Fohs Goh!” Thral shouted as he sneezed.

The crutch, hat, eye patch, parrot, and big pirate hat flew off in different directions as the apparition and Mell’s orb tore apart. On the other side of the floor, Master Barry braced against the power of the sneeze, the ringlets of his beard uncurling and standing out straight in the wind’s force.

The Shout spent, Master Arnie congratulated Thral. “Well done. Again.”

Now it was Master Wilf’s turn. He raised his arms and another specter appeared in the middle of the floor. This time in the form of a maniacal minstrel. It plucked at the strings of its ghostly lute making a horrendously irritating sound.

Mell summoned the ball of light once more and Thral sneezed again. The minstrel’s lute, cap, and little velvet shoes disappeared as the apparition flew apart. Master Wilf’s beard, no longer wrapped around his neck, streamed out behind him like a ginger windsock.

“Impressive,” said Master Arnie as the wind dissipated. “You learn quickly. Once more.”

Master Enuf raised his arms and summoned to the chamber a specter of an Ergonian dressed as a maid. Master Arnie looked at the Master Enuf and the latter shrugged.

Ergonians are reptilian in nature, derisively called Lizards or Lizard Men, and are deeply logical, always stating the consequences of any given argument. They are inhabitants of Black Bog, a vast bogland in southeastern Tamarind. They can breathe underwater, and also have long prehensile tongues—a fact that has enabled them to become skilled thieves and lockpickers but very unwelcome guests at respectable dinner parties.

Again Mell did her thing with the light and again Thral sneezed the Shout “Fohs Goh!”

The apparition of the Ergonian shrieked as its clothes tore off followed by its scales and bones until nothing was left. On the other side of the floor Master Enuf was flat against the wall, his circular hair-beard mane now flat against his head.

“Impressive. Thral’s Boo’m is precise. He shows great promise. We would be happy to sponsor the Dragonbore!”

Draloth smiled. “Thank you, we will make sure the soap is put to good use. After all, it’s important the Dragonbore is kept clean and that his odor is a fragrant one. Can’t have him smelling like the common riff-raff, can we?”

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Master Arnie. “Now, we must perform the Dragonbore’s next trial in the courtyard. If you can all follow Master Barry.”

They followed Master Barry out of the doors behind the judge seats and the other Greatbeards followed.

“We will now see how Thral learns a completely new Shout,” announced Master Arnie as they reached the middle of the courtyard. “Master Barry will teach you ‘Fars’ which means ‘fast’, ‘Trha’ which signifies the start of a journey, and ‘Vel’ which signifies the end of a journey. These are the three Words of Power of the Shout we call ‘Worldwide Sprint’.”

Master Barry placed the three words on the snow-covered ground and gifted his knowledge of them to Thral, and with Kharla and everyone else’s help the Thane of Whiteruin was able to learn the words as he had learned ‘Goh’.

Master Arnie nodded approvingly. “Now we will see how quickly Thral can master a new Shout.”

The Greatbeard pointed toward a metal gate a little distance away. It seemed to have no purpose as there was no fence or wall attached to it. “Master Wilf will demonstrate the Worldwide Sprint. Then it will be Thral’s turn.”

Master Barry walked over to the gate and opened it. Then Master Wilf shouted “Fars Trha Vel!” and as he did so his body shot forward at an impossible speed through the open gate. Kharla wondered if he’d gone clear over the edge of the mountain. A few moments of silence passed and then Master Wilf reappeared at impossible speed from the same direction. He poured dry white sand from his hand.”

“That’s the sand of Elsweyr!” said Ti’lief, bending down and feeling it. “This one would recognize it anywhere!”

Master Arnie smiled and the curls of his beard moved in response. “That is right, Khapiit. The Worldwide Sprint allows you to travel anywhere, as long as you’ve been there before. Master Wilf used to winter in Elsweyr with his family as a young boy. I hear your people were fascinated with his family on account of their ginger hair.”

Master Arnie turned to Thral. “Now it is the Dragonbore’s turn. He must stand next to me. Master Barry will open the gate. See if he can Worldwide Sprint through the gate and then back through it again. The gate is only to focus the direction, the mind. It’s pretty useless as a free-standing gate, of course. Now, the place to which Thral Sprints must be a place that he has been before. He must think of that place and then use the Shout, and then Shout again from the place of arrival to return here. You must, if it even needs to be said, be outside when Shouting. It will not work if you are indoors—one cannot pass through walls, after all.”

“That’s asking rather a lot,” said Draloth.

Kharla nodded in agreement. “Yeah, and if he did manage to get it to work, he’d not get back again. I’d need to go with him. Is that possible?”

Master Arnie frowned and twiddled one of his curls. “Well, I’m not sure. You could try holding onto him when he makes the Shout.”

“Wait,” said Mell. “I’ll need to go too, or else he won’t be able to sneeze to get back.”

“Now, see here,” said Eilgird. “Anywhere the Thane goes I need to go too. It’s part of the terms of the sponsorship.”

“Well, I’m not allowing that sponsorship money out of my sight,” said Draloth. “I’m coming too.”

A few moments later they were all holding hands, except for Ti’lief who said he didn’t want to miss out on the cleaning opportunity, so he’d stay behind.

“Right. Here’s what we’ll do,” began Kharla. “We’ll chant the Shout and hopefully Thral will join in once he gets it into his head. Then Mell, it’s over to you with the light orb thing.”

Mell, at the end so she had a hand free, nodded back in agreement.

Kharla turned to Thral. “Now, remember, repeat the words with us, and try to think of somewhere you’ve been before.”

Thral nodded. “Somewhere nice!”

Kharla nodded. “Yes, that’s right. Somewhere nice. Somewhere you’d like to visit again.”

Thral nodded as Kharla, Eilgird, Draloth and Mell started chanting. “Fars Trha Vel!”

As soon as Thral started to chant along with them, Mell brought into being the glowing orb before the Thane’s face.

Thral sneezed. “Fars Trha Vel!”

Kharla lurched through the air at impossible speed, everything a blur, as she held onto Thral’s hand for dear life, and Draloth hers. Mell screamed, Eilgird screamed, they all screamed. The sensation ended as they came to an abrupt stop that sent them all to the ground upon which they had landed.

Kharla, her head spinning, pushed herself up into a sitting position to get her bearings. In front of them stood a familiar building.

“Well, that was an interesting experience,” said Draloth, still flat on his back. “Where are we?”

“Outside the Honkingbrew Meadery,” said Kharla.

Draloth laughed. “I should’ve guessed!”

A passing guard stopped on the road and looked at them. “What’s going on here, then? Can’t have people being drunk on the side of our roads.” He turned to look at the meadery. “Or is it poisoning?”

“Official business of the Jarl,” said Eilgird as she pulled herself out from under Thral’s leg.

He looked at her uniform. “Ah, I recognize that voice. Is that you, Eilgird? It is, isn’t it?”

“Bert?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Ah, well, that’s all right then. Carry on!” Bert walked off to continue his patrol.

“You know,” said Draloth, dusting himself down. “If you didn’t have those ridiculous visors you’d be able to recognize each other a lot easier.”

Eilgird tapped her visor. “We wear these because it unnerves criminals when they can’t see our face and eyes.”

The Dark Elf raised his eyebrows. “Really? I heard that the guards wore them so no one could tell when they’re sleeping at their posts.”

Eilgird put her hands on her hips. “Well, you heard wrong then.”

“I think we need to get back before Thral hits the meadery,” Kharla said.

“I’m not sure we thought this through,” Draloth said. “How are we going to convince Thral he needs to get back to High Healthspa? What if each time we try we just end up at a different drinking establishment? A sort of endless meadery crawl but at high speed?”

Kharla pulled at her ponytail. “Hmmm…good point. Anyone got any ideas?”

Thral stood, looked at the meadery, and smiled.

“We need to go back to High Healthspa, Thral,” said Kharla.

“Mead!” said Thral. “No more mountains with slippy steps.”

Kharla sighed and turned to the others as Thral walked off toward the meadery. “Any ideas? Any at all?”

“Well…there is…” Mell began.

“Yes?” asked Kharla.

“It’s just that it’s not perhaps the most ethical solution…solution being the operative word…”

“I’m still listening,” said Kharla.

Mell pulled out one of the white packets she’d purchased in Whiteruin. “This potion, when imbibed, will make a person very susceptible to doing what they are told to do.”

“I’ll be having a word with Orcadia,” said Eilgird. “Those potions are illegal.”

“Technically, it’s not illegal to sell them in powdered form,” the Breton explained. “Aren’t loopholes wonderful?”

Eilgird folded her arms. “Hmph.”

“I don’t think we have a choice, anyway,” said Draloth as Thral stepped through the meadery door. “Give me the packet. I’ll slip it into his mead when he’s not looking.”

***

“What happened?” said the bartender. “He didn’t choke on a Skreever tail, did he? That’d be the third this week if he did.”

Kharla bent over Thral. The Nord was flat out on his back after downing the mug that Draloth had spiked. She slapped his face and his eyes flickered open.

“Beautiful Orc lady!” Thral said. “Beautiful green Orc lady!” The Nord strongman stood. “We marry and have beautiful yellow children!”

“What’s wrong with him?” Eilgird asked.

“How much of that packet did you put in his drink?” Mell asked Draloth, grabbing the packet from his hand. It was empty. “All of it? Can’t you read? It says ‘serves four’.”

“Well, he is four people, more or less,” Draloth countered. “You have to adapt it to the size of the would-be victim, at least that’s how poisons work.”

Eilgird was probably frowning behind her helmet. “How would you know that, Dark Elf?”

The merchant smiled nervously. “Oh, you know, one hears these things.”

“Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear…” said Mell, staring at the packet.

“What?” said Kharla.

“Well, it’s just that four servings should only be used at once if…erm…”

“If what?” Kharla pressed. Thral was now staring at her with a silly look on his face.

“If you need a love potion,” the Breton admitted.

Kharla sighed. “And how long does it last?”

“Well, just a day or so,” said Mell.

“Thank goodness,” said Kharla.

“For someone of normal size,” the Breton continued. “Perhaps half that time for someone of Thral’s size.”

“Well, that’s even better—”

“But one has to factor in intelligence as well…” Mell interrupted.

“So about a week then,” added Draloth.

“Yeah, probably something like that,” Mell admitted. “Sorry.”

“Oh great!” said Kharla. “Just great!”