9redeux

The following morning, the team awoke early and moved downstairs for a swift breakfast before meeting Jarl again. When they descended the steps, the delectable aroma of eggs and sausage met them halfway. A few customers rested at the bar, while another laid out in a chair passed out from the night before. Brilliant rays of yellow sunlight filtered through the dusty windows of the old saloon on the worn planks. The stillness produced a hazy, dreamlike atmosphere, as if time itself had slowed down. Lazy motes of dust floated through the warm air like pinpricks of starlight. It’s going to be a hot one today, but when isn’t it in this arid wasteland? The Inspector led her group to the table where Jarl sat.

He was speaking with the serving wench. “...oh, and my companions will have a platter of your fine breakfast, I presume?” He glanced at his recent friends.

Saffron nodded, “Yeah, uh four Snowdelver breakfasts please.”

“Of course, mum.” The older, burly woman hurried off to prepare their meal.

“So,” she began, while taking a seat at the bench. She noted another mug of strawberry milk in front of him. Crimson pieces of fruit drifted around the glass and swirled in a delightful dance. “You certainly like that stuff, don’t you?”

“Hmm.” He took a drink of the savory pink beverage. “A friend turned me on to it years ago. Figure at my age, all I should do is drink milk.” He sat his cup down and leaned in a little closer. “So, I spoke with my buddy, the seer. It seems Marcrumm was in a town north of here a week prior, but it’s far. Four days by airship, even more by horse.”

“Where?” Her interest piqued.

“Fontenot Park, a tiny hamlet in Blackgate woods near Coldhel.”

“Guess we better be going, yeah?” Dayne said.

Jarl stared at the group before clearing his throat. “Listen, I have an idea that will get us there faster, but dangerous.”

Four steaming platters with sausages, eggs, buttered rolls, and potato crisps soon arrived at their table. The dishes hissed and crackled, and wisps of scented steam drifted upwards. The delicious smells filled their senses with the aroma, and their stomachs growled in anticipation. “Ooh, be careful, dearie. These are piping hot!” she said, placing the food in front of each person.

“I can tell.” The sizzling platter clattered between his waiting arms. “Thank you!” Thulaeth licked his lips and drew his utensils.

Saffron waited for the wench to leave before asking, “What’s your idea?”

“I have a friend nearby who owes me a favor. He’ll get us there fast, but it’ll cost.”

“Faster than an airship?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “He’s a Suicide Mage, so it is risky. You ever hear of Phasing?”

“You mean teleportation?” Maarko dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin.

“Hold on a minute.” Thulaeth put his fork down. “First, what is a Suicide Mage?”

Before Jarl could reply, the Maarko responded. “Ah, like a cult of mages who practice necromancy and dark arts. Their magic is so powerful it can take years from their lives, depending on the type of spells cast.”

“But why suicide?”

“This is where it really gets weird. It’s believed a person’s existence has a predetermined span. If destined to perish a year from now and they cast a sinister spell that takes a year from their time, they’ll die. Since no one knows when their life will end, every casting is an opportunity for death. Hence,” He waved his hands in the air. “Suicide Mage.”

The Inspector spoke up. “So why is this dangerous for us? We aren’t doing the magic.”

Jarl’s eyes narrowed. “True, but with Phasing, we are a spell component. I’ve done it once, and it’s quite a trip, but it worked. Been from one coast to the other, in a flash.”

“We’ll do it.” Saffron didn’t hesitate.

Her party looked at her, and Thulaeth chose to be the brave one. “Wait. Don’t we get a say?”

She glared at him. “No. You do not. I’m in charge and we have to arrive there as soon as possible. Our mission is urgent and it will take too long otherwise. If that doesn’t please you, I can report to Director Thangalier about your feelings.” She turned to Jarl. “Your friend. He here?”

“No, he’s about a half a day’s ride from here. Other wizards don’t like Suicide Mages. I warn you; they’re an odd bunch.”

“I can handle odd. Dangerous is what concerns me.”

“Excellent. I’ll get my stuff and grab a few hitors. Meet me out by the stables at the end of the street.” He stood up. “It’s also going to cost around a hundred gold. You got money, I take it?”

“Yep. We can cover that.”

“Alright then. See you later for our walk on the beach. Without the water, that is.” He said. Seeing that no one laughed at his poor joke, he dropped coins to the barkeep and left.

“Hey, hold up a minute. What can you tell us about this? The Director told us it showed up in the town a while back.” She handed the drawing of the strange obelisk to Jarl.

After studying it, he returned it to her. “Yeah, she perked up when I told her about it. It is down by the Academie Magicka. We’ll stop by there before we leave.”

“Sounds good.” She turned to her men. “Finish your breakfast and fill your canteens. It seems we have a long, fierce trip through the desert today.”

“Inspector,” Maarko started. “This phasing shows signs of being dangerous. You think this is sensible?”

“No.” She stated. “We’re against the clock and the Empire wants that mage found, like yesterday. The sooner we find him, the quicker we can end this.” She pushed her plate away and wiped her mouth. “To be honest, I’m pretty curious to discover what Mage Dial’s been up to, especially regarding drow.”

She stood. “Get your gear together and meet me outside in ten minutes.”

***

As they exited the cantina, Jarl waited out front, as promised. He sat perched on the back of a massive hitor. A thin dusting of sand coated its short, tan hair, and the beast’s long snout grunted when it saw them. The paladin held the reins of four other animals, similar in shape and size. “I got these for you. Horses don’t do too well in the Samhir Desert, but these beauties can go all day and night.”

Dayne and Saffron eyed the beasts, then hopped on them as if they knew what they were doing. Maarko struggled with the tall creature, but climbed to the saddle strapped to the beast’s back. Thulaeth stared at it, unsure. “You ever rode one of these things, boy?” Jarl said.

“Ah… no.”

Jarl smacked his lips. “It’s just like a horse, only taller. When you’re driving her, hold the reins tight or she’s gonna drive you!” The hitor sensed Thulaeth’s uneasiness, and it sidestepped away from him. “Tell you what. Hold and walk with her a short way. We’re going to go look at that thing down by the mage’s place, then we’ll leave.”

The limited reprieve satisfied Thulaeth. “Yeah, I’ll try that.” He gripped the leather straps and led the beast with the rest of them down the main street.

The white stones of the Academie Magicka rose like a mirage in the relentless sun. Its majestic twin towers stood tall against the endless expanse of golden sand, shimmering in the heat haze. As they neared the school, the mages who had huddled near the entrance saw the group and scampered off. Saffron could see they must have been studying it. “Thu? You sensing anything from it?”

Thulaeth handed his reins to Maarko, who had dismounted and approached the obsidian device. Despite all the wind and sand blowing around, the black stone shined in the daylight. The apparatus stood four feet tall and, except for the jagged splines that stretched up from the four edges up the length; the rest was smooth. On top was a transparent crystal with a violet smoke drifting inside. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his skill. “Only the sphere radiates magic. The purple stuff, but the rest of the machine is cold.”

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“No traps?” Saffron approached the device.

He crouched to the ground and examined the base. “Nah, only the secret panel the Director spoke of.” He ran his fingers over the curious drow rune. “It isn’t a trap, but I’m unfamiliar with the symbol.”

Maarko stepped forward and stooped next to Thulaeth. “It’s a drow clerical rune. I’ve seen our priests use this symbol. Human letters are below it. M. D. just like the Director said.”

“What does it mean?” Saffron grew impatient.

Maarko looked at her with solemn eyes. “Zashtar.” He groaned as he rose from his knees.

“What is Zashtar?” Jarl rested his hands on his belt.

“It’s an afterlife for drow. A bad one, terrible really. It means ‘Eternal servitude’.” Saffron licked her parched lips. “Is there anything else?”

“I think so.” Thulaeth pulled his dagger out and put the edge around the square runestone. “It looks like this comes off.”

“Be careful, Thu. It could still be a trap.” Dayne cautioned him.

The stone pried loose and fell to the sand. Suddenly, the device shook and trembled. The crystal at the top glowed with brilliance, even in the brightness of day. Everyone stepped back and the mages who had been there before ran inside their building. The violet smoke swirled, then disappeared from the edged glass into the black structure. “What the hell just happened?”

“I don’t think it’s over yet.” Maarko took several more steps backwards as he saw the obelisk shake violently, the sound of stone grinding on stone. Without warning, the opening that Thulaeth had exposed illuminated with a purple light. The smoke that had once been in the crystal shot out and encircled the young drow numerous times. Dayne checked his skill, but felt no danger or fear. The glowing vapor stopped in front of Thulaeth, bobbed for a moment, then launched into the sky where it disappeared.

Everyone stared at each other, not believing what they had witnessed. “Um, what just happened? Is this a drow device?” Jarl scratched the sweat from the rear of his scalp.

“No, while we use obsidian in much of our building, this thing is crude in form. I don’t know what that magic was that came from it, but we’ll find out, I suppose.”

“It wasn’t magic, mum. I didn’t sense it as an enchantment, but it was something… different.” Thulaeth bent back down and pulled an object from the opening that he had made. He produced a scrap of paper rolled and tied with a bright red string.

“Let me see that.” The Inspector reached out to the young drow, who handed it to her. She untied the cord and read the tiny piece of parchment. “It says ‘Thumall Nae’Izzara’. Be with Izzara.” She turned to Maarko. “Record everything that happened here. Write it down. It may be useful later.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Despite his infallible memory, he pulled his journal from his coat pocket and wrote.

“Do you think there is a connection to that missing mage of yours?” Jarl asked.

“Well, the M.D. could certainly be our guy. Perhaps he was trying to send us a message with the hidden note. Regardless, we have a mission to complete, so we best be on our way.”

Jarl changed the subject. “The first night it appeared, a few of the townsfolk got scared. They tried to pull it out of the ground with their hitors, but it wouldn’t budge. Seems something is keeping it here. Nobody, not even the Marshal saw anyone putting it here.”

“They should leave it be until we can figure out what it is and if it’s connected to our mission. How far did you say your friend is?”

“Half a day or so. We should get going before the sun gets too high and bakes the skin right off of us.” He mounted his hitor and urged the others to do the same.

“Let’s go, boys.” Saffron climbed atop her beast as well.

***

The day’s ride offered her the opportunity to talk with their host. She rode in tandem with Jarl while her men were behind. Relentless sunshine forced them to keep their hoods up, but that caused them to sweat even more. The hot and dry desert air was unbearable, but she tried to take her mind off the heat with conversation.

“Tell me a little about yourself. How did you end up here?”

Jarl spoke about a few of his early adventures with Tetathay when he was still a recognized Paladin with her father’s forces. “Solist Thangalier was a shadow-elven Duke. Begrudgingly, Belarian Cross had appointed him to a parcel of land existing in the Deepwater Elven Territory to appease the Kingship. Tetathay’s mother was one of few gold-elves left. She was beautiful, and her father was a respectable man. Exceptional people and it was my honor to serve with them.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to you? Why are you a Zer-” She stopped herself. “Why aren’t you a Paladin anymore?”

“It’s quite a story, actually. I liked to drink. A lot. On one particular day, they tasked us with protecting a promised bride on her journey to Marchenne. Our trip was pretty uneventful, really. Until it wasn’t. Our last camp before arriving, me and the men were drinking it up. We had had no problems up to that point, so we felt safe.”

“But you weren’t, I take it.” She prodded.

“Nope. Deep in our drunken slumber, Crossguard Mages attacked my party. I could barely stand, much less fight. We lost six of my nine guys in the skirmish.”

“And what of the bride?”

The zeroam was silent. She could see tears welled in his eyes. “They took her and the handmaidens, screaming into the black woods. Later, we found two of the girls, raped and beheaded. No one had seen the betrothed again.” He sniffled. “The wizards defeated my men after a quick battle. One mage, a dark-skinned man, not like you, a human, removed his mask. His pupils were white and lifeless. He cast a fire spell on us, burned our camp to the ground.” He touched the scars on his face, then wiped the tears away. “That’s how I got this. I was the only survivor. I’ve been looking for those Crossguard Mages forever since.”

They rode in silence for a moment longer until he said. “Solist didn’t want to release me, but the politicians had pressured him. I get it, I really do.” He shook his head. “I have been doing odd jobs for twenty years. I’m a sell-sword, bounty-hunter, even been a farmhand. Whatever will pay the bills, I guess.”

“You ever find them? Any of them?”

“Who?” He asked.

“The Crossguard Mages who attacked you and your party?”

He stared ahead. “Last year, I found two of them. The first one was easy. He was building illegal spellslingers in a backwater town near the dwarven territories. I delivered justice and salted the earth behind him. Didn’t bother to look back.”

“And the other? You said the first one was simple. What about the other?”

“I had to pray for that. Spotted him in Marchenne, of all places. He had a family and converted from a mage to a cleric. A man of God.”

“I can see why that must have been hard.”

He shook his head. “That’s not quite it, entirely. He was a priest who served Bray. My God.” Jarl glanced at the massive tan rocks jutting up from the sand. “My deity instructed me to kill him. He’s the Lord of Justice, and Phillipe Surovar wasn’t serving his lord properly as he trafficked young girls to Vol’Muuthik. I did my duty and delivered justice to him.”

After a long silence between them, he peered at her shadowed face. “What about you? What’s your story?”

This question surprised her. Most people don’t take the time to learn any details about drow as they view them as mysterious outsiders. The Empire kept drow history from the surface world, and that was the way they preferred it. She smacked her lips and spoke. “Me? Ah...well, let’s see. I grew up in Vilsomme-”

“Oooh Vilsomme, huh? La-dee-dah! I’m sharing the desert with a fancy lady!”.

Saffron chuckled at his teasing. “Heh, yeah. My parents worked in House Treche. Mother was a handmaiden to the Duchess and father drove a coach. The Duke treated them extremely well, and the Lady focused on educating the children in her care. She was a kind woman who didn’t treat drow different from anyone else.” A grin formed at the corners of her mouth. Talking about her childhood brought immense joy. The manor was a wonderful place to live.

“But? I mean, how do you go from living in a cool, comfortable mansion to riding with a Zeroam through a hot, miserable desert?”

“Young and stupid, I guess. By tradition, I had to return to our capital to partake in Izzara’s Tears. Every shadow-elf is required to do that before they are an adult. After that, I signed up for the Drow Nationals looking for adventure. Turned out, I was outstanding at fighting, so I stuck with it.”

“So, did you find it?” Jarl asked, staring ahead at the dunes.

“What?” Saffron cocked her head to look at him. His profile was strong, skin tanned. She could see the strength of his character, despite knowing him for a day. Attractive. For a human. She mused. Her mind then wandered to thoughts of the Magistrate and him. She wondered if there was anything else to their relationship other than combat.

“Did you find your adventure?”

“Oh dear, did I ever? More than I bargained for.” Saffron said.

“Funny how life works that way. Pushes you into a situation you rarely thought you would want to do.” Jarl shifted in the saddle and brushed his hand against his mount. “We’ve got another hour. You doing ok or you need to stop?”

“No. Let’s keep moving. I’d like to get out of this awful heat.” She flirted a little. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but deserts and shadow elves don’t mix well!”

“Heh, no I suppose not. You ever think about returning to ‘the grounds’?” It’s what humans called the drow’s underworld home. Drow didn’t take offense to it as the elvish term’s hard to pronounce for them.

She gave him the short version to pick back at him. “Capranio’DuChamp?”

He rolled his clear green eyes. “That’s what I said, wasn’t it?” They both found relief to share a proper laugh. “I’ve heard there are still pocket colonies living near the surface.”

Saffron thought for a moment. “Yeah, I’d like to. I was a youth when my parents moved us to Vilsomme. Father considered it would be logical for me to learn about other cultures, specifically Human. This was before the cataclysm, too. The Drow Artifact Reclamation Company regularly goes down there to recover treasures and artifacts, but that is pretty dangerous.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that. Regarding humans, what have you learned?” Jarl took a swig from his canteen. A thin trickle of water weaved its way from the corner of his mouth and through his whiskers.

“Actually, this might surprise you, but I admire your kind.”

“What?” He nearly choked on the water still traveling down his throat.

“No really! You are a lot like us. Resilient and steadfast. In my thirty years of living on the surface, I’ve seen many tragedies befall your people, but like my own, you don’t let it control and beat you. Humans adjust, reroute, and move forward.” She paused. “I respect that.”

“What about the dreadful stuff you’ve seen humans do?”

“You think your kind have a monopoly on doing evil? Drow, elf, dwarf, orc, and gnomes are capable of that as well. We should be better than that.”

After an extended silence, Jarl growled. “I’m afraid there aint enough decent people left to do that.” He cracked his knuckles and narrowed his eyes at the distance. “We’ll be there soon.”

“Excellent. This heat is killing me.” She uncorked her leather flask and took a massive gulp of water of cool water. It would be nice if the rest of their day went as smoothly as this half had. She thought, peering into the stark desert landscape.