EPTPrelude, Part I
Brandesh picked up his spear, it was thick with sweat and other juices he had staining his finely trimmed nails. The need for more combat was quite strong, for he felt his spirit beginning to tire. Guy waited beside quietly, seeing that all the true combat had ended.
Glory seemed an easy enough thing to achieve, but was mysterious in its actual value. Shredded victims of a dark army of yielded gold and treasure, but sometimes the jade chest of victory lent nothing but empty space. Brandesh’s father, the King, had yielded such wisdom, but was just as often found to be silent.
The path of a soldier was a hard one, rigorous daily exercises and sparring had young Brandesh a fine, fine soldier. Occasional sessions of heavy eating still left him with a tough frame.
The spear was a simple silver combat spear. Good value, but its use was simple, blocking and deflecting swords.
His blue kingdom tabard was smeared with red blood. But fashion truly mattered little to young Brandesh. Nightmares had plagued his few moments of sleep since the combat ended seven weeks ago.
The dynasties of Triarch were as political as they were variegated. Brandesh’s family sported the green eagle signet, and his green ring drew many unwanted combatants to him, pulsing as his red blood pumped through him. His father was King of the West and his mother his faithful Queen. He was only 23 years old and he was excited to graduate from soldiering to leadership, where his father excelled. In Triarch there were three houses, the West, North and South. The South was called Stillguard, and wore white cloaks and its women kept their hair covered, due to the hundred degree heat. Brandesh had just fought to defend the castle at Farcoast, a hotly contested coast.
There was also a so called Eastern continent, separate from the other content by an ocean called Ice Ocean, fostering some blackhats, named for the fashion many youths of the East sported, covering their foreheads.
The South and West were at war endlessly, Stillguard was led by many tribal warleaders, head of which was the great King Shagdar, and the resplendent Queen Tri-na, both fierce and unyielding.
“I think that’s the end of it,” Guy said.
“Where is the enemy?”
Brandesh had replaced the silver spear with the more dexterous dagger. Seeing the battle was over, he at last put down his dagger.
“That was some fight, I could use an ale!” Guy said.
“Me too,” Brandesh said quietly.
Being in the stage-lights was a pain in Brandesh’s young heart, especially having to see Princess Sarah, as his battle-blood didn’t mix well with Court intrigue.
Suddenly a flame-wolf leapt out of the corner, and Brandesh grabbed it whole, burning his hands. They rolled until Brandesh gained the upper-hand and did the beast in. The magical wolves were small, but hard to master as pets.
Guy helped his friend up. “maybe to or three ales for you, you look tired as a dog.”
Though tired and pained, all he could thing about was Sarah.
Sarah danced happily with Patriciae on a veranda bathed in starlight, their lithe bodies moving in a beautiful fashion, they had flowers in their hair and their minds danced over women’s concerns. The Veranda was covered with thick green vines covered in purple-bitter berries.
“Come here you two or I’ll let you dance in the dungeons!”
The girls rushed to grab their wands, such devices were truly unneeded in higher magic, which the girls studied, but remained in use for training.
Master Winthrope sauntered in, tall and heavy of shoulder, with a long white beard.
“I know you girls are past flame-wolves, but I think Patriciae could use the true God’s guidance on water-beasts, seeing the young students didget he let out a merry laugh.
Princess Sarah was part of the white path and Patriciae the black, both worshipped the true God, but Patriciae was new to the various spells and counter-spells.
The making of spells was created centuries earlier, since Leviticare summoned the first dire-wolf and kept two pups as pets, causing farmer muffins much distress. But beyond him, it was discovered women were more attuned to magic. It involved intense concentration and one slip or shake couldn’t alter the careful summoning of energies.
Sarah was a skilled caller, she has silky, voluptuous hair and held herself with beautiful grace and poise. Patriciae was newer to magic, but something else entirely in life. The two girls were very sweet to each-other.
The ladies worked on their flame-wolves and nodding his head in approval, Master Winthrope said, “Good, now put down your wands.”
“Now I want you at summons, Farcoast is saved, and the King’s retinue will be returning to Sealcrest."
Patriciae played with the little water-pup she had summoned, perhaps the only one who knew what was on Princess Sarah’s mind. Meanwhile purple-bitter berries dripped off the vine.
The tribal war-horn announced the King’s war-council. Brandesh was a south fighter, but was tired from the long journey. Guy held a grin at seeing the spires of Sealcrest, rising high into the sky.
Master Winthrope conjured a magical harp and began to play a dance tune. Meanwhile young Angel and Liu had joined in the girl’s play, while Master Winthrope clapped in time with the dancing. Angel was a girl of 12, and Liu likewise, Angel was a white and sported blonde hair, Liu had black hair and was a skilled seamstress of water-magic, as such language was used by girl-magicians. Liu had a boyfriend named Gregory, who became ashen at any court intrigue, but was a good boy. Sarah welled up with tears, as these girls were like family.
Um, hello, I just wanted to say hi,” Brandesh said, after he suddenly appeared in proper regalia.
“Hi, how are you,” said Sarah.
“Well, Brandesh thoughtfully replied. The other girls giggled, Brandesh wished he didn’t feel so nervous, he’d be more comfortable doing push-ups. He was quite enamored with Sarah, they were not of relation, but had studied together in church for years.
“Here, try to control this dire wolf,” Sarah said.
Brandesh controlled the pup somewhat easily and somewhat intensely, for it was as tender a thing as holding a baby, a misstep could destroy the ‘house of magic’ as the girls called their calls. But Brandesh was skilled in the art somewhat after training with some blackhat youth on a visit to the East.
Sarah’s face was beautiful mask of calm, she was merely 19, studying at the academy of Sealcrest, she was like a river, but her thoughts disparaged this idiot of a caster. He wasn’t holding the pup right at all! In fairness he was doing fine, but he was too much of a soldier right now.
Sarah said nothing, and Brandesh knew nothing of her thoughts. Princess Sarah came from a different section of the West Little Triarch, and the city of Sematnthia, with some of the toughest soldier in Triarch, Sarah had been hurt by a one, hurt badly, and locked herself away with dancing and magic.
“What is this flambosery? Get down to dinner Brandesh, you have work in the stables tomorrow!” Qeeun Semanthia announced. She was a sweet Queen, and had mothered Brandesh well.
“See ya,” said Brandesh, followed by the same from princess Sarah.
As they walked away Patriciae hummed a familiar tune.
Of all the fallen angels and seraphim,
The raven-Queen calls all to her,
In her warm breast, culled within,
To want or need no more.
It was a young night, and Patriciae knew more mischief was in store.
Three little water pups followed her. Even a little water cat adorned her room. When she was with Brandesh, she felt like she could fall into his strong arms, but she was only a girl of fifteen, she didn’t care for boys, or dogs as she often found them. Her bathroom had a black brush, toothbrush and large white block of soap. When the moon appeared her first thought was on readying a bath, and she called a servant to help her prepare one. The water pups would lick her feet and she’d giggle at the attention. As she washed with the soap she thought, “Maybe I’m in love with Brandesh.” Then she laughed, “But I’ll never be a Queen.”
She called the water pups and cat into the bath after dressing, resolving their energies.
Her heart wasn’t only concerned with matters of love, the war with South Triarch had given her nightmares, as they had siege weapons cached in Highpoint, south of Farcoast. She had had nightmares about those siege engines killing her family here at Sealcrest. She had absolute faith that Brandesh could stop them if the King faltered. She had a friend from the South, named Accasia, she was from the South, but she was indeed good, loyal and true and had Patriciae had no idea why their nations warred, perhaps gold, she mused.
She put on an herbal masque of green herbs and white cream, and slowly stepped into bed.
Brandesh breathed out as he lifted the last bundle of hay. He was a magician with the sword, but not much with real magic, perhaps, no he should as God for guidance on things magical. He then walked to his master’s offices.
A conjuration of white ghosts flew over and lent illumination to the gold and silver arches that lined the room in a square pattern.
“How are you boy? War comes, from the South yes, but from the North too, even the eastern nations prepare for war. Have no doubt boy, war is coming, best if you can carry on when the honorable King leaves us, God bless his soul, best you learn some magic… I know you worry for your hands, but you have work to do, heal this cursed Triarch and make it pure again. Perhaps forget bedding my girls and learn!”
“The thought never crossed my mind, sir.” Brandesh said. Such advice seared young Brandesh’s heart, but he knew if he was to defend the kingdom he would have to learn magic, even if it was a womanly skill.
“Sarah? Err, Princess Sarah?” He said.
“Yes boy, go seek her out.” Winthrope said.
Brandesh left, he was no stranger to tough love, his father had even thrown him in the dungeon several times for acting unruly.
Brandesh’s mind was a mess. He heard, or imagined too much, or was too uncontrolled, he was a good boy, but it didn’t always show. He prayed to walk in the light every night.
He half-stumbled up to the magician’s corner as it was called. All the girls were waiting there sewing magic together. The only one missing was Sarah, who arrived and her things down. There was some sort of disconnect between Brandesh and Sarah, perhaps because Brandesh was a complete novice at magic.
Brandesh sat down cross-legged and tried to work magic, but his mind was blocked and magic seemed a chore.
Lady Morgan arrived and joined in with the girls. She was a lovely lady in her thirties, married to Sir Barlow, she pointed Brandesh to Sarah.
Brandesh tried to join in the fun but was held back by Sarah’s beauty, here perfect form outlined in the shadows of the room. Sarah just stood there blankly murmuring incantations with her shining earrings. He was close enough to kiss her, but was aggravated by her reticence towards him. Though he was a prince she thought him a hood-rat, brown as the scum of the street. Or so young Brandesh thought.
The truth was Brandesh loved Sarah but wasn’t good enough at magic to earn her friendship. The war with the South occupied his every tought. Lacking inspiration, Brandesh huffed off and left the magica. “Time for some soldiering,” he thought.
Guy woke Brandesh up at dawn for soldiering, or sparring as they called it. Swordsmaster Jacob handed them their blades. They were about equals, with Brandish the superior swordsman and Guy superior at fisticuffs.
In the eastern Courts, Brandesh had learned to use a dagger well, and was currently busy rebuffing Guy’s attack.
The castle at Sealcrest overlooked a beautiful hill and from the armory beautiful flowers could be seen, the smell of fresh-baked bread blew up to the armory.
The walls were decorated with every style of weapon known to Triarch, strange Southern knives and Northern maces, and Eastern arrows lined the walls. King Wellturn had started the collection in order to improve Sealcrest’s soldiering. The only person to have mastered very weapon was said to be Captain Lancass, currently lost at sea.
The fat swordsmaster grunted at the music of the spar. Suddenly the King entred.
“Too much loafing boy, off again to the dungeon with you.”
Brandesh was too tired to bother resisting, his father’s word was final.
Push-ups, and rigorous standing exercise, including stretching, kept his spirit up for the unknown amount of time he would be here.
Water dripped off the eerily sun-lit green cell. Bright moss grew on the walls, and the cell smelt of the sea. The bones of the last occupant of the cell sat against the wall, smiling at Brandesh.
He didn’t hate his father for sending him here, as he loved him and knew he would be sad when he was gone.
A little notebook was his only possession in the mossy green dungeon, which he filled with poems and stories of dragons.
His thoughts often drifted to Sarah, from Little Triarch, though he didn’t lust after her, he couldn’t help but think what a great mother she would make.
He was allowed an hour respite to mingle with the other prisoners, some fairly crazy, but some kind souls who simply had broken some laws.
Bang went the door and Queen Semanthia entered.
“Dices,” she said and Brandesh handed the gamblers tools he had stashed away. Sometimes she would offer her son encouragement or often chiding. This was one of the chiding times…
“…And, it’s not your father’s fault you were put here two times before, that was your own mischief.”
The houses of West Triarch ran in a dual-tiered fashion, where the King ran the city, but the Warmaster held equal sway, and seeing as he was a drunk, King Wellturn simply didn’t want to see young Brandesh disappear into the night, Prince or not, victim of the Warmaster’s secret police. Triarch was an unruly land and many crazy things happened.
Brandesh thought of of Sarah, yes, but he wanted to use his magic, what little he kenw of it, to make Triarch a better place, a safe, happier place, and he thought what he had learned in the eastern earldoms would help him achieve that noble goal, but he was stuck in the dungeon.
Brandesh was a rare magician as he was a white, but also knew of the black. Most men couldn’t summon magic beyond a wisp, but Brandesh had the basic mechanics to summon a wolf, but such things were forbidden in the dungeon, as Master Winthrope and the King didn’t always see ye-to-eye on young Brandesh’s training.
Suddenly a fair voice sounded, “Off your knees lad, I’m rescuing you from the Warmaster, word reached me he has ‘ideas’ for you.” It was fair John Brady with a feather in his hat and a merry glint in his eyes, and effeminate posture of the hands, “Be off, you big boy, you’ll find your cell door unlocked. Your friend Captain Lancass is waiting for you at the docks. You’re heading for the East.”
John Brady pulled the brown feather out of his hat and handed it to Brandesh, he then pulled a pair of magical elven shoes from his satchel and handed them to Brandesh. The red shoes slipped on and fit luxuriously.
Brandesh had never run so fast in his life.
Patriciae the black caller and Sarah the white sat in Patriciae’s room, eating sugar treats with Patriciae brushing Sarah’s beautiful almond hair. Squire Jollip sat nearby sipping a coffee-cocoa drink.
Patriciae breathed in deeply before rambling into some trivia or another about Court gossip.
“Who do you think is the best lover in the King’s Court?” Sarah said.
“Certainly not Brandesh, he’s much too thick-headed.” Patriciae said. Both laughed.
Though she had a soft-spot in her heart for young Brandesh, she was currently dating Jollip, who squawked or guffawed at the gossip, saying little.
The lot of them, Brandesh, Guy, Sarah, Patriciae and the others had had time to mix and mingle before, until war came two years earlier.
Patriciae sweetly brushed Sarah’s hair and said, “We had best be at the Warleader’s summons.” The Warmaster needed pet-magicians and the girls were strong, it was only natural.
They appeared in the Warmaster’s Court dressed in black and some blue.
“Girls,” the drunken leader said. “I want you to keep your ears open to any, should we say, unscrupulous activity. I’m talking of those who would relinquish the pleasure of many for the needs of the few. Can you manage that, my dearies?”
Seeing she was being coddled, Sarah spoke. “We will do our best to comply with your will lord.” She held back resistance to not serve the good King instead.
Patriciae simply submissively bowed.
Brandesh’s heart hurt, not just from his jog, but from worry of seeing his friend. Captain Lancass awaited him with a mug of fresh honey-water, as white seagulls flew over the dark-blue ocean.
Captain Lancass was a young captain, only 33, but had a dark expression due to his thick beard, which he kept at full length, even in high summer, which was the season now in West Triarch. An expert in navigation and star-reading, Lancass was a fair but stern captain, he was known for administering a slap on the bottom for a job well-done. Lately, though, he had been administering very few slaps on the bottom, as his lads had been rowdy and drunk on too much Southern wine. He was known to give out seven lashes on the back to sailor acting out of turn for the first offence, the second time he’d simply throw them overboard.
“Set sail,” Lancass said. “And trim the sails, we’re bound east!” An ember of light was preparing to leap out of Brandesh’s hand, just a play by Brandesh, when Lancass said, “Careful, witch boy, as the flame-whelp could take down my vessel.”
Though he joked, Lancass was confident in his ship as he had an alchemist create a special oil, that would resist fire from flame arrows or other flame weapons used in sea combat.
After drifting in the harbor for an hour waiting for authorization, they set out.
Part II,
Princess Sarah stood at Court wearing a blue and gold dress. She was a thing of beauty with her sparking earrings, and was a strong representative for Little Triarch, her home. She felt much safer there than here, as it was her home, and here she could spy the Warmaster leering over her fine body.
The Warmaster was drunk on Navory wine, a city of West Triarch. He clapped in time to the pipe-flute music, with the same hands that had sent many men, even women, to their deaths, those who either caused him trouble, or were simply caught up with someone who had challenged his absolute power.
The ceremony was bedazzled with a number of shining candles, and even a few of the town drunks were carousing at the tables of lower rank.
The King enjoyed the splendor, but felt uncomfortable with crowds bigger than fifteen. He occupied his mind with puzzles and games to pass the time, while the Queen talked to the guests, winning friends and enjoying company. A skilled conversationalist, she kept priority on her partner, and never said anything uncouth.
“How fair ye, good King Wellturn?” The Warmaster said.
“Well as the seven stars let me.” The King replied, referring to an irregular pattern of stars in the summer skies of Triarch.
The two had been friends during war years ago, but their bond had slipped as the Warmaster’s power had come to grow.
“Your boy got away on a ship due east, eh? Not a good place for a lad to be.” The Warmaster said, while several of his soldiers practiced battle forms to the applause of the hundreds assembled there.
“He’s a good lad,” The King said. “Just gets into bad situations.” He said with a sad smile.
Meanwhile Brandesh’s brother, Duke Charlie ate a peach and leaned back. He lived an aesetic lifestyle, rarely drinking and never gambling. He was one of the finest athletes in the nation though, not a magic user like Brandesh. Charlie could run all he wanted but Brandesh would always pin him when they were boys. They shared a deep bond.
Housecarl Minda served out heaping pots full of stew, with bread and fruits and chicken, which Charlie greedily devoured.
“Want to see a bit of magic Duke Charlie?” Sarah said, approaching.
“Anything my lady requests,” He replied.
Suddenly, the summoning of magica yielded a change in the air. In her hand three mini-water wolves circled around a black-red dire wolf, underneath a white whirl-pool hid Sarah’s hand.
“The dire wolf ignores you, but the water wolves are drawn to you.”
“What does that mean?” Duke Charlie said, lost in the chanting white whirl-pool.
Sarah stopped casting and simply gave Charlie a hug.
“When the time comes you will know.” She said, “You’ll know.”
“Will I find love? Great treasure?” Charlie said innocently.
“They sense pure things, you need their magic more then they need you. I am a girl so I have studied such creations for countless years. Go slowly and you’ll find your path.” She said. “The dire ignores you while it comes easier to Brandesh because you’re less willing to risk your life.”
Duke Charlie argued. “But he’s in the dungeon!”
“Not anymore,” Sarah said. “It matters not where he is but where his spirit lays. He’s a good wolf, you’ll find that out soon enough.”
“But…” Charlie started.
“Shh…” And she laid her finger across Duke Charlie’s puffy lips.
Patriciae jumped in with her dancer’s body and spoke, “M’lady, the Warmaster wishes to see us.
“Oh, drat,” Sarah whispered.
Over on the Warmaster’s side of Court a dark aura sat with the soldiers being replaced by a flock of barely clothed dancers, rocking their bodies and even kissing.
The dark Lord spoke, “Girls, for the night you are part of my army, you’ll change into my choice of jewelry, and dance to my battle-hymns, or else… Well, I shouldn’t say, but,” He gulped. “Urp, want to keep your heads yet, eh dearies?”
“Wha-“ Sarah started, then remembered it best not to speak.
“Go to the northern corridor, and weave some magic for your master.”
Patriciae, Sarah and even little Liu walked quickly to the northern corridor.
“This is an adventure, my Daddy loves exploring.” Liu said. The other girls said nothing, knowing many men had died here. “Hush, baby,” Sarah finally said.
They entered the northern corridor to find six men bruised and bloodied from interrogation.
“Girls, save us,” one of the men with a fine jaw and broken nose said.
Sarah covered cute Liu’s eyes until the head interrogator, a leather-faced grizzled man said, “Le the girl see.”
They drew out a lash and whipped each man five times. Then the Warmaster’s pet said, “Chant your magic and ‘deal’ with the true criminals.”
Millions of golden star sparks illuminated the walls white while the girls summoned their energies, a pack of dire wolves appeared and the feeling of magica in the air was palpable. The wolves bloody teeth gnashed, almost ready to pounce.
Master Wintrhope entered, “Stop this nonsense, this is but a girl of ten!”
“Silence old man, she has her orders.” The Warmaster’s pet said. “Find the criminals and deal with them, girls.”
Sarah let out her hand, and a white spirit tiger flew, sashe-ing between the condemned men, suddenly Sarah could see the petty criminals from two men who had done unspeakable things to a young girl, rape, murder and beyond.
She spoke, and linked spiritually, the three said, amongst wolf-howls, “These four are petty criminals, spare them, these two have raped and murdered. Liu put up her hand and the pack of wolves began tearing into the two men with their teeth, gruesomely severing tendon, flesh and bone and scratching with pointy claws.
“Very well, then,” The Warmaster’s pet said. “Off to the dungeon with the rest of them.”
“But they’re innocent!” Sarah said, with Liu and Patriciae taking her back.
“We are done with you for now, trust me, the courts are fair. Dismissed.” He said, with a kind smile and tilt of the head, as if asking “Please.”
When she got back to the girl’s magic corner she had to throw-up.
Brandesh threw-up overboard. He had bad sea-sickness, and was busy getting his sea-legs. Captain Lancass slapped Brandesh incredibly hard across the bottom, guffawing, “You’ll get your sea-legs yet, boy.”
Brandesh had sailed before, but it was on his father’s Naval vessel. The Harp was a different ship entirely, rocking at a wide arc wildly on the waves, careening and crashing, spreading out a thick mist of sea-water.
After munching on a red apple, Brandesh slipped off to the Captain’s quarters, where Lancass sat smoking a pipe with his lover Bethany, who was not smoking. Bethany was the Kitchen girl, and Captain Lancass had punished many a sailor for fantasizing about her kind face and full-body.
Lancass had found her a stow-away when he was 25 and she was 13, he recruited her to his ship soon thereafter, and for social reasons, had made her his partner, though they did not consummate their relationship for five years.
Captain Lancass handed Brandesh a pipe and asked him, “What’s on your mind, boy?” Amidst the stifling heat of his den. Lancass also handed brandish a long pipe, stuffed full of Navory tobacco.
“Enjoy the Navory treat, boy, I’ve had it specially imported.”
“Imported, sounds divine,” Said Brandesh.
“You don’t know the half of it.” Lancass smiled.
They puffed on the sweat Navory tobacco, while Bethany laughed at their jokes.
“I think I’m getting a bit crazy,” Brandesh said.
Lancass brought out his harp and played an old ditty, “The Song of My Green Homeland.” But unforunatly, Lancass as of yet lacked the ability to find the proper temperament for his harp, and when he switched to a strange key, the strings started to sing like wolves.
After the delight Lancass repeated, “What’s on your mind, boy?”
“Everything Lancass, everything, magica… the power of it… and I’m thinking I’m in love with Princess Sarah, but after smoking your fine Navory tobacco I find her looking like an owl-queen of the night, dark, shaded eyes warily looking upon my naked form. Such a strange tobacco.”
Brandesh stared into the ceiling for a minute, then said, “Anyway, she doesn’t seem to love me back.”
“Ah, matters of love I know. I once bedded a slave girl in the south when I was but fourteen, right after I had run from Swanson to Silsilban, 25 miles. I was a bit tired. If you keep your heart open to love you’ll find it one day,” Lancass said.
“It’s just I want to master magic,” Brandesh took a long draw from the pipe, “But I also have to follow my father’s law, but he keeps putting me in the dungeon!”
Lancass puffed his pipe, “You’re old enough to stop sucking on your father’s teat, boy he spat, “You need to cast magic on your own terms.”
“But I can’t, I need his wise council, and his gold, and I still love him, perhaps some distance is advised, though.”
“If you want to keep your balls boy, you had best earn your own gold.”
“Maybe we should say a prayer.”
Lancass just sat there, mute. After five minutes Brandesh asked what was wrong. Lancass said, “Oh, I think I’ve been drawing on this pipe too long, best you go carouse on the upper deck with Guy. I’ll stay here with Bethany.”
Brandesh asked Bethany for a hug, which she hesitatingly gave. Captain Lancass said nothing. It was a warm hug and made Brandesh feel better.
Brandesh walked up the stairs to find first-mate Brooks, hiding between the shadows. He was skinny and long, with a lock of curly hair over his forehead. He also drew from a pipe.
“How fare ye, young Brandesh?” Brooks said.
“Poor, I fear, for I have had too much Navory tobacco, and have spent too much time in my father’s dungeon as well, and this sea-sickness is hard to keep pace with. Though the Navory tobacco has miraculously cured it, it seems.”
Brandesh drew out his sling, and cast out his last stone, which splashed in the calm water. “I feel as if I need to study more magica, but I need my fun,” Brandesh pointed to Brady’s pipe. “Or else it seems like a chore. God help me, I don’t know what to do.”
“I think you need to make your way on the seas as I do, then it will be raining girls and magic.”
“Excuse me dear friend, for I feel nervous.”
“Stay, young lad,” Brooks said, and offered Brandesh his pipe, which the lad took. “You have fire in your eyes, but lack your brother’s good humor, once you get your sea-legs we should take you onboard, we could use a minor caller like you.”
“I don’t know what to do…”
At that, Brooks became silent. At last Brandesh clapped his hands and said, “Music!” Grabbing his lute, soon the two were creating delightful musics.
Brandish absentmindedly patted a small cut on his lip he had acquired after falling during a bout of sea-sickness. He picked up his recorder and soon the twenty-man crew broke into a familiar sea-chanty.
Of all the lost blue sailors, on lost brown ships,
The greatest was Gulladeen, ruby-lip’t,
Dagger in hand, dagger in back,
After chasing away any storms…
Brandesh put down his instrument and, hopping into bed drifted into a sweet sleep, even if his dreams were a bit sea-sickened.
After about a month of sailing, the ship docked in the capitol of the East, called Gin-Gold, and Brandesh felt at home, even though he was a foreigner here, and foreigners were not welcome in Towinia, as the kingdom was called. He had studied here as a boy though, and the landscaped looked familiar enough.
“Best we be off to our bunks,” Guy said. Perhaps your magic can earn us some gold here, as I haven’t the faintest idea what we’re doing here.”
“I’ve got gold from my room, which I took soon after leaving the dungeon. It should last us for our stay here, as living in Towinia is cheap.” Brandesh enthusiastically said.
“Go off and play, lads.” Captain Lancass said. “Brooks and I will be gathering cargo to smuggle for the return to West Triarch.”
They found their beds, blue floor pallets, in the barracks, and when Brandesh asked Guy what they should do first, Guy replied, “Methinks a shrine, then to a magic show!” He jokingly guffawed, Guy was aloof about shrines and magic, but this was Towinia!
Several cute girls eyed the pair as they walked by and Guy tipped his hat, to which they shied away.
The shrine was a fountain shrine, and a thing of beauty, with seven flowing waters, enmeshed within an orchard of pear trees. Brandesh got on his knees and prayed for good luck. Guy plucked off a pear from a full tree and carelessly said, “And now, to the magic battles.”
Only in the eastern kingdoms were men as able, if not better than women at magic, though it was arguable, as few had the courage, even here, to call, or chant, even on this strange continent, male magicians were eyed suspiciously.
They paid a few bronze coins and entered the magic-show.
Two magicians, dressed in finely-garnered uniforms, representing their teams, or schools of magic, approached the stage.
One, named Ken-wane stretched out his neck carefully and like a tiger, stretched out his hands to summon a pack of flame wolves, while his opponent summoned twice the number of weaker dire wolves. What followed was a fierce display of magic, performed by men!
Guy absentmindedly finished his pear and said, “Not bad, but I’d like to try my blade in combat with them, wait, perhaps maybe not,” he finished, after seeing the stunning ruby entities that appeared and disappeared, while dire wolf teeth tried to gnash flames.
“It’s as tender a thing as holding a baby… nothing like combat.” Brandesh kindly said.
“Do you think you’ll ever be able to train with them?” Guy said.
“I think not,” Brandesh said, “Some of the lesser ones, perhaps, the true God willing.”
“That might be nice for you,” Guy said, in this awkward and unfamiliar place he could only be supportive.
“Come, mate, let’s go see what I can do at the magicians corner.”
Young Patriciae, with her dancer’s body, stood doing rigorous stretching exercises, outside the magicians corner, preparing for bed-time, thinking whatever it is young women think about. The war with South Triarch occupied her mind while dozens of wagons raced outside her window.
The summer air was hot, and a thin veil of sweat shimmered underneath of her evening gown. “Why has our lovely Triarch come to be cursed?” She wondered amidst the screech and moan of brown wagons. She was a young lady, and felt quite unsure of her place in the world. Brandesh would surely bring her mood up, but word had reached her that he had set out for that he had set out for the East. Screams and shouts from drunken men left her feeling uneasy, and she wished she could have a friend like Brandesh to warm her heart. As if by the true God’s wisdom, Princess Sarah walked in.
“Can I talk to you?” She asked.
“Of course!” Patricia replied.
“It’s just that things seem boring around here with Brandesh gone.”
“True,” she replied, while reaching her arm out to grab a purple-bitter berry off the green vine outside, playing with it between her teeth and tongue. “Even if he is thick-headed.”
Shaking her head and laughing Sarah said, “Maybe a bit of magic sharing would help our mood.”
“Magica! Magica!” Patriciae said with a clown’s smile.
But soon the pink room’s mood got more mysterious as the girls matched palms, stretching back to form a blue arc of energy. Magic play was the way magical girls communicated spiritually. The blue arc of energy phased into pink, then white, then back to blue again, alternating in a rhythm as the girls probed eachother’s magica, and their bodies flushed with warm blood, making their cheeks rosy.
What was to become of a magical girl? Be a pretty doll for some minor Earl to marry? For yes, the magic lent their faces a beautiful glow. Or would they lend their powers to the weak of spirit? Or were they like buzzing hummingbirds, hopping from flower to flower, or angels dancing from star to star?
The truth was, though, that they were the Warmaster’s pets for now, until some hero could rescue them. They would war his jewelry and sing to his tune, and yes, they had lovely voices, you should know… or else they would disappear in the night, forgotten girls.
They had never felt so together and yet so alone in their lives. Trouble lent a heavy-sky over fair Triarch.
They kissed eachother goodnight and headed off to bed.
Master Winthrope stood, blankly staring at an open space on his white, magical wall. He began to pace the room furiously. His mind was full of ideas, but he had nowhere to put them. He was worried about his girls, but as it is with most, he was also worried about himself. His students, all girls, were concerned with everything but magica, it seemed. He thought about heading up to the local tavern for an ale, but then thought the better of it, he shouldn’t be going to the bar in this state of nervous consciousness. He stroked his thick, white beard. He, in truth, despised the Warmaster, and all of his dark doings. A shining ray of hope for him was young Brandesh, his favorite student, who had the wisdom in magic and discipline in combat to lead West Trairch out of the trouble it was in.
For in West Triarch, also called Costania, trouble was evident, Minor Earls warred for scraps while the nation’s true economy was beginning to crumble.
“Lack of discipline,” he thought, “And a lack of energy to deal with the reality that stood before them.”
He took out his pipe, and very slowly puffing, thought.
He couldn’t help but think of the girls.
Sarah was casting her magic fine, in fact all the girls were, but her body wasn’t free to work, she was attempting to master water magic without understanding air magic. The power of the white winds could heal any withered grass. Her true path was with the dire wolves, and against a skilled Towinian water magician she would be devoured. Winthrope knew of the East, yes, though few truly did, and he wasn’t pleased with the girls at all.
Brandesh started his day some Navory tobacco and vigorous push-ups, but was frustrated that his magic was no match for the Towinian casters. Where his record at Sealcrest would be high, here he had gone two and five in his magic duels, and he was beginning to think he had no idea what he was doing.
He walked to the magician’s corner, a stone-building where young callers went to hone their craft. He went and found his partner, Chu-sup, from the Eastern city of Fin-cheon, and soon they were in a trance-state, batteling between their minds.
A pack of grey dire wolves rallied to where young Brandesh had summoned them. His mind was far from Sealcrest’s dungeons.
“What do you fear, brother?” The strange Chu-sup said.
“Nothing,” Brandesh’s mind answered, as he sent his dire wolves to meet Chu-sup’s water wolves, and the two clashed in a titanic battle held within the mind, racing over green-grass, blue sky shining down, in an environment controlled to be whatever the callers wished. Chu-sup was the superior caller, by far, but was impressed when Brandesh took a few matches off him.
“What is it you seek?” Chu-sup asked.
“To be one with a female caller, he name is Sarah.”
“Be a man, Prince.” Was Chu-sup’s reply.
The wolves ran amok on the green lush, breezy field, tearing at each other with Chu-sup of course winning victorious. Chu then pulled Brandesh’s mind to his and Brandesh’s vision turned to black. He felt like a cat left in a dark closet as his eyes attempted to adjust to the darkness.
“Here you are safe, but you travel back to a land that is not welcoming to magicians,: Chu-sup said. Suddenly Brandesh felt a warm hand on his neck and knew by the gentle touch that it must be Chu’s. Suddenly two young Towinian girls danced in the now sunlit field, doing rollovers and cartwheels. “These are my nieces. Make this world safe for them, brother.” Was all Chu-sup said.
Princess Sarah sat chewing on a sweet-pastry locked away safely in her august room. She had just finished her evening bath and was sitting, fresh and lovely and clean in her night-gown awaiting Sir John Mellowford, who she had begun dating since Brandesh had ben thrown in the dungeon, though it was only by coincidence, she was Princess of Little Triarch, her father scary King Downbrow, and she would see whomever she deemed appropriate, and in truth she barely knew Brandesh existed as he was so quiet, and she knew he was off journeying with captain Lancass and the youthful Guy.
Mellowford was a young son of a rich merchant of Costania, and was quite excited to be dating the young Princess, his stupid smile could not be mistaken as he bragged to his friends and family about her ample bosom. The two had begun a relationship recently and everything was as it should be, as the Mellowfords ran a huge allotment of resources coming into Sealcrest, and they were a good match.
Sarah was complacent in her relationship, she had a friend for romance and was free to spend the rest of her time with spellcraft.
The door opened, and rather then Sir Mellowford, it was little Patriciae saying, “I’ve brought us some water pups to play with!”
“Where’s Sir Mellowford?” Sarah replied.
“Oh, he’s out at a wrestling fair in the country, I thought we could play.” Patriciae said, as her wolf pups ran, bouncing into the room.
Sarah stood a bit flummoxed, but laughed as a wolf pup nibbled at her feet.
As if wishing to chant, Sarah broke into a song they both knew.
Milk drops, raining down,
All is heaven in the town,
The red wolves and sheep are held at bay,
A jolly rain for all today,
Won’t you taste my sugar treat,
The town is pouring now,
Won’t you take a sweet?
As the rain rains down,
Don’t you know,
Little girls shouldn’t trouble,
Ancient black ruins,
Amidst stone rubble,
That’s why the milk drops,
Are raining down,
Don’t you think its time,
Little girls stopped running around.
“Looks like rain,” Patriciae said. “You know, it’s not all jolly-fun, what with the Warlord making demands on us, it’s hard to feel care-free, these diamond earrings he cast for us are itchy!”
Princess Sarah said, “Fear not, for it’s all part of the true God’s plan, Brandesh being locked in the dungeon, then muting his magic, all will work out with God’s help. Just look at you, scared to work water magic one day and now calling water pups to play.”
“I wish we could kill the Warmaster.”
“It’s not wise to wish to kill,” Sarah replied. “Besides this black tunic he had made for me looks so fine!” Sarah sarcastically said.
Suddenly Master Winthrope burst in. “Girls, I hate to trouble you, but war comes from the South again. This is a call to arms!”
Guy huffed and puffed as he did a thorough mix of exercises in the marshalling yard. He was young, only 16, and rosy-cheeked to match. He was said to be the great soldier with the cherry-red lips. Always smoking Navory tobacco, he was a gifted musician, and spent his days strumming his lute in strange tunings, singing about the old God’s and his emotional desires, devising ways to please his parent’s guests at the inn. He felt he would never, ever die. He was far too young.
The exercises made him combat-ready. Though he didn’t know as much of the dungeon as Brandesh did, he knew his best bet would be to find an internal peace through the diligent smoking of Navory tobacco, and working his muscles. He was also a fine runner and took pride in working on that until his lungs tired.
He was sitting outside the cabin, resting, that he and Brandesh shared when First Mate Brooks greeted him.
“Salutations soldier, we return to Costania tomorrow, word has reached us that the Emperor of the South plots war against the West. Are you ready to sail this evening?”
“Certainly,” Guy replied.
“Then be about your business, good day.” Brooks left.
The news of war coming to Costania both worried and excited Guy, as he was a fierce swordsman, the Navory tobacco helped him practice, but truly he cared little for the killing that exists in warfare. “I had better go wake Bradesh up.” He thought.
The sailors were loyal to the West and would return to defend her if need be, and though Captain Lancass was free to call anywhere his home, he would stand and defend Costania from the South, also called Vindrix, in the old tongue, as it had been his home since he was a boy.
Guy marshaled up his courage and went to go tell Brandesh the news. Marshalling was necessary as Brandesh was a brown bear when it came to waking up in the morning. He always said he need at least six hours to feel truly rested.
“What!?” Brandesh yelled at Guy, who lovingly ruffled him, telling him the news. “Oh, dear,” Was Brandesh’s reply, as he rolled out of bed. “How do I look?” Brandesh asked.
“A mess,” Guy replied, knowing he had spent his evening losing at the magician’s corner.
“A trip will do me some good, I’m sick of sitting idly by.” Brandesh said. He knew his father, King Wellturn would need his strategic counsel, not his magic tricks to stop an invasion from Vindrix. He had trained in it since he was a boy, and knew better than most how to set up a defense of cavalry, siege engines and archers.
“I wish I could be Princess Sarah’s friend however,” He thought, but day by day that idea became less and less probable. ‘Be a man,’ yes, the wise Chu-sup had said, but Brandesh knew he was more boy than man, despite his tough frame and tall body, his time in the green dungeon had left him a bit…slow.
Sarah. Liu, Angel and Patriciae stood together witnessing the birth of Lady Morgan’s daughter, whom she had been pregnant with the past nine months. “It’s a girl,” the vanilla-clothed midwife said, wiping bloodied hands on some towels after handing the babe to Lady Morgan.
“She will be healthy, keep her clean and the two of you get plenty of rest.” The midwife said to Lady Morgan.
“I can’t wait to hold the baby!” Angel said.
“We had best be at the Warmaster’s summons,” little Liu said.
“He only asked to see you and Angel,” Sarah blankly stated.
The two young girls scurried off to the northern corridor at Sealcrest while Lady Morgan lay, clutching her new daughter, Camille, to her heart, greedily.
The two young girls ran down winding halls at Castle Sealcrest, giggling with delight until reaching the dark northern corridor, where the giggling ended and was replaced with the moans of prisoners, as the mood became more somber.
They walked into the Warmaster’s candle-lit prayer room, under a crystal chandelier, dark and bright at the same time.
“Wine, girls?” The drunken Warmaster said, sitting at his table with his pet taskmakers. The girls knew they shouldn’t drink, but they both took a gigantic gulp of the triple-fortified wine from Warmaster Drakkar’s golden chalice.
“Good, very good,” The Warmaster said, unlimbering his fat body andplacing a hand on Angel and Liu’s shoulders. “Those other two witches can be a bit… uncooperative, and I wanted to see a light-show to delight my men here, are you game, young ladies?” The Warmaster said, he almost talked to them as if he were trying to convince them they were adults.
“Anything our master requests,” Angel politely said, and stretching out her hand a nimbus of light shot out forming a white cross, which the Warmaster ducked as it shot over his head, it was a pure thing the Warmaster was anything but pure, but Angel had ensured it would be harmless, then Liu joined in, palms outstretched, and a million gold-star sparkles rained down around the room, they circled the room and danced around the wicked dark men, while the Warmaster laughed and clapped his fat hands in off-rhythm time to the display. Red star-flames sparkled as little Angel and Liu concentrated on making magica, then, after a brief period, the lights retreated back into their hands.
“Good, jolly good,” the Warmaster croaked, drunk on Navory wine this time. He was a fat man and was said to have the largest wine collection in the land. “Do you still have your outfits I sent for you, my dearies?”
“Yes, though they are a bit itchy, my master.” Angel said.
At that, the Warlord let out a loud bark of a laugh and said, “Dismissed.”
Brandesh stepped onto The Harp and felt that familiar sea-sickness beginning to settle in, though he was now more used to it, with the useful aid of Navory tobacco. Captain Lancass let out a loud guffaw and slapped him across the bottom. He knew he would cherish his time in Towinia, but he wanted to return to the work that remained in Costainia.
They sailed for four days along the Ice Sea, with First Mate Brooks strumming his lute and Brandesh playing his recorder, while Lady Bethany improvised a dance to the tune, Guy set up a bath of roses for ten coppers to any man who wished to smell sweetly. He ushered in guests to his suite, much like his father at the inn. Eventually a light rain began that turned heavy as they sailed along Ice Sea. Brandesh loved the heavy pelt of blue rain that lent a somber mood to the voyage, though Captain Lancass was worried that the storm would lead to dangerous seas for the light and swift Harp.
In fact, the storm had gone far enough that Captain Lancass had made an emergency call to Brandesh to be at summons in his den. The den was smokey made so by Captain Lancass’ long pipe, he had another ready for Brandesh which he handed to the young lad when he entered.
“Rocky seas lad, We’re heading west, but, I fear for my baby, not you dear,” He said, looking at Bethany. “My ship wasn’t meant for these rocky waters. Navory tobacco eases the pain, though, and this is of the finest variety.
Brandesh took a subdued drag of his pipe, and replied, “If I remember my geography correctly, Ice Island and the Dark Woods lay near us, we could park there and wait out the dangerous storm, though who knows what fearsome things would await us there.
“I think a change would be welcome, the Dark Woods are, well, dark,” Lancass said. “But I’ve heard of friendly elves in the forest, Towinian elves, amidst the trolls and goblins. Yes, that is where we must go.” Lancass took a draw from his pipe.
“Wherever my captain says I should go, I will go.” Brandesh said.
Bethany reappeared wearing her swimsuit, Brandesh was enamoured with the site.
“Be sure to protect me, my good man,” Bethany said.
“Of course!” Brandesh said, offering a light hug.
“Good evening, Brandesh” Lancass said, waving Brandesh out, amidst the patter of rain outside the cabin.
Brandesh walked to his quarters which he shared with Guy and began a vigorous set of stretching exercises, paying special attention the neck, as Lancass had taught him, in order to ward off sea-sickness. He started off stretching his tired stomach nad back, then his tired knees and head. He was scared, scared indeed of what waited in the Dark Woods, but even as he felt Lancass drift the ship towards Ice Island, he was at peace for he knew and trusted Captain Lancass.
Princess Sarah walked into Master Winthrope’s quarters amidst the white ghosts that flew among the quadrant. “Yes, master?” She said.
“I have a quest for you!” Master Winthrope said, unlimbering a blue vial from his robe. The vial was half-full with a slightly bubbly, blue liquid. “Drink this, and head off to bed.”
Sarah stepped out of Winthrope’s magical offices and did as she was bidden and drinking the vial, soon began to become slightly dizzy as she walked into her bedroom, she suddenly decided a stroll through the gardens was quite in order. Sarah Mehlody loved the gardens, they were ten miles by ten miles, and included hills, trees and, at this time, starry skies. The grass was especially thick in this part of the garden. She walked by a display of Gillemere trees as well as some Oh-yum flowers, from the East, she crossed the small brook and bridge and realized she had no idea what she was doing. She wished to be comforted in Sir John Mellowford’s long arms, a supplication most girls, even magical girls, were vulnerable to, then she became panicked as she realized she was shrinking! She became lower and lower to the trees until she was about a hundredth of her old size. She practiced summoning a dire wolf and became calmer as she realized she could still cast magic, but it was a bit disconcerting as she was so tiny.
“Feeling a bit off, dear?” Master Winthrope’s voice echoed in her mind.
“Yes, master, please make this pain stop!”
“It will be over soon, fear not,” Master Winthrope said. “I designed this potion with the help of the legendary alchemist Dorian, to teach you a lesson, I’ll let you figure out what this lesson is, farewell.
Sarah walked around the garden until she found one of her lost rings on the ground. She tried to pick up the gold ring and found it to be too heavy. Panicking a bit, she assumed a cross-legged position and closed her eyes until she returned to her normal size. But she did not return, the grass began to swirl and the sky seemed to be singing melodies. She got quite lost in the music and found herself swimming in the garden. She was quite delighted, the dizziness had completely disappeared, as if it had never existed. Then a cat came down the path. It was golden and furry, with pointy, almost green teeth, probably from too much of the garden’s wild catnip. That cat strolled down and looked at her. He playfully swatted with her with his fist and she screamed.
The light show was still continuing and the music turned into devil music.
“No kitty! Please don’t!” Sarah said.
But that cat wouldn’t listen. It picked her up and carried her into the forest, there she met a colony of other cats, living off the blessings of the Green Mother. Tuna from the streams, sea-hens and plenty of catnips kept them happy in the woods. Suddenly the devil music turned into holy music, as everything changed into different shades of glowing white and yellow. Sarah felt like she did at church when she was a child, after drinking too much holy wine. The cats accepted her as there own, but before she could celebrate she had returned to her normal size, before she left she found a lost runt kitten which she named Alexander and took back to the palace.
She had felt both scared and amazed, and seen delightful things, heard delightful music, she would have to tell Brandesh about this.
Master Winthrope always had some mixed up exercises for her, she thought.
Part III
Storms brewed as The Harp rocked on uneasy seas, splashing churning salt water. Brandesh unlimbered his heavy bronze armor and prepared for a pleasant Navory tobacco smoke and sleep, when he heard Captain Lancass’ voice calling out.
“All hands to deck!” The Captain said.
A steady rain had poured down upon the vessel since they had left a week ago, sailing upon the treacherous Ice Sea. Brandesh stepped out of his bunker wearing a dark cloak and spied a small outcropping of land on the horizon, Ice Island, if his judgement of geography was correct, yes, it was indeed the island. Rumor had it that some Towinian elves lived within a magical city, buried somewhere lost in the woods.
Brandesh was alive with the music of the rain playing on the ship. He took a step towards Brooks, who said, “Seas are too rough, we’ll have to wait ou the storm on the island.”
“As good a place as any,” Brandesh replied.
They weighed the shiny steel anchor, and dismounted in an even fashion, sailing on the lifeboats and unloading supplies. All the while, the rain kept a steady pulse, making the crew quite wet. They would have to find shelter soon, as summer was giving way to fall and a cool wind blew, rustling in the rain.
The group had finished unloading the cargo when a pair of forest trolls, six feet tall, came trotting to see what the twenty man crew was up to. They carried large spears and had fierce beards and dirty teeth, standing quite high. One troll let out a loud bellow and charged with a pack of his kin behind him. Branddesh drew his sword and prepared for combat, but soon a whistling sound pierced out through the night and the trolls fell over, dead, with a group of arrows sticking out of their backs. A lone elf approached the group and said, “Fare well, humans, these forest trolls will no longer trouble you.”
Captain Lancass stepped away from Lady Bethany, whom he was shielding, sheathing his sword, and approached the tall elf. All the while the rain beat down on the shore, while the crew felt relief at avoiding the confrontation.
“I am called Bravadesh, and you are safe here human,” Bravadesh said. “Though my kind have occasionally been troubled by yours, we sense no hostility in your party, therefore we will aid you.” The elf said.
Captain Lancass took the elf’s hand, shaking it tightly. “It is said that an elf’s intuition is only matched by a woman’s.” He said.
The Towinian elf Bravadesh smiled at this, saying, “I may appear young, but I have lived 50 summers on this island, but enough formality, please allow me to take you to our holy city, Malinia, where you crew may stay and rest as my guests.”
“It would be an honor.” Lancass said.
He later whispered to Brandesh, “They say an elves life is as long as three humans, quite odd.”
The rest of the party of elves appeared, with the upswept ears common of their kind, helping the crew with their baggage, and the two parties slowly walked to Malinia, amidst the cooling rain.
Brandesh and Guy were startled by the beauty of the city that lay before them. A tall, pearl, stone wall lay before them, sheltering huge brass, gold, and stone buildings, many lined with some white. The rain still beat down at a steady tempo.
Bravadesh said, “Here humans, you will find lodgings.” Pointing to a stately barracks. “And all else you should need. Our holy Magistress should wish to see you, as I sense magic in your party.”
Brandesh and Guy ran to the building and both noted that the elves were already preparing baths for them. An elf woman was pre-serving bread and stew froma large pot in the center of the barracks. Brandesh and Guy both grabbed a serving and dipped their butter-coated bread into the stew, greedily eating. The fare on Lancass’ ship was meager, though Lady Bethany put much effort into the food, the boys were content in their meals. After the stew, Guy and Brandesh settled into two warm baths and washed away a weeks worth of sea-grime. Soon they became tired, after smoking some of Guy’s Navory tobacco, along with Ikledel tobacco and dwarven rum, and a 10 mile run on the outskirts of the castle through the now misty rain, they drifted off to sleep on the pallets the elves had prepared for them.
Brandesh awoke to Bravadesh sounding a recorder, playing a delightful melody in the city of Malinia. After playing a rousing tune the elf spoke, “The Magistress of the Dark Woods wishes your crew to dine in her hall tonight, for we sense magic in your crew, though you have one woman.”
Brandesh took heed of the notice and woke his body up with a vigorous set of push-ups, the rain had lessened, but drops still fell and there was a heavy sky over Malinia.
“So the elf-queen wishes to see us, young Brandesh,” Captain Lancass said, handing Brandesh a pipe.
Brandesh took a long pull from the pipe and said, “If and elf’s intuition is only matched by a woman’s, imagine what the Magistress will have to say.”
“I’ve dealt with elven-kind before, smuggling elven gems and rubies,” Lancass said. “And we shall gain much from her council.”
Brandesh said, “I just hope I’m presentable for her court,” absentmindedly rubbing another cut on his lip he had acquired falling during his second bout of sea-sickness. “I could use some wine.”
Lancass ran and came back, returning with a skin of wine. “Good Navory wine, boy.”
Brandesh drank heartily from the skin, and asked, “Just what are these elves, these Towinian Elves doing in these Dark Woods?”
At that, captain Lancass broke into a sea-chanty.
Elves in the woods, elves in the sea,
Working in forests dark and unknown,
To claim all lands, wherever they be,
And sit their Queen up their throne.
The elf Magistress presided over the dinner at her court. Many fine foods were arrayed for Brandesh and the crew. Wine, roasted chick and vegetables, heaping bowls of honey and salt, as well as a strange tangy sauce for the chicken.
“Before you leave,” the elf-Queen said. “I can sense magic in one of your crew, Captain Lancass, let that person be known to me.”
“Well,” Captain Lancass said. “Lady Bethany is known to preserve our foodstuffs with her amazing magic, she also has the ability to breath underwater.”
“I had no idea Lancass,” Brandesh said, “Bethany, a magician, that makes two on our ship!”
Brandesh put down his utensils and stood before the court. He felt a bit nervous being singled out as he walked to the Magistress.
“Come, child.” The elf-Queen said.
Brandesh walked to where she sat.
“Look into my diamond cup,” She said.
“Amazing.” Brandesh stammered.
Looking into the cup the wine swirled in a giant swirling sea, while amazing visions of kings killing kings were shown, an amazing white dragon was also shown.
“You bear the signs of the dragon and the king, here, look,” She said, lifting Brandesh’s arm, revealing two small purple birthmarks. One was a small baby dragon, the other, a purple crown.”
“You will one day meet a white and gold dragon which will guide you, she is my friend. All women are friends. You must know many dangers will be encountered on your journey, Lancass you will lose much. Now we will all drink the ceremonial Gohgah, a fine drink we craft in the mountains.
Each member of the party was handed a tall glass of a sparkly pink liquid. It tasted delicious.
“It might seem like nothing, but this wine is ten times more potent than regular wine without any flaws.” The Queen said.
The ceremony continued, with strange elven music being played, and roast deers being served along with more Gohgah. Bird pies, delicious berries, and fine cakes.
Brandesh and Lancass got quite drunk on Gohgah and took Bethany out for a ride in a carriage around the city, It only cost a few tears, human tears were used to make elven soap, the only soap that could wash their thick skin. They were shown a painting so beautiful no man could but to weep at its sight.
Brandesh remembered the Queen whispering something strange about meeting in her private chambers later. So, quite drunk, he and Lancass stumbled up the long steps into the highest spire Brandesh had ever seen, smoking their pipes as they walked. They knocked three times and a tall doorman, with a hooded mask and stern look, admitted them.
“Greetings, elf,” Lancass said.
“The Magistress awaits you in her room.”
They found the elf Queen lying on her bed, gowned in a silk red slip that clung to her tight frame.
“Magistress…”
“You may call my Sehlahli,” She said. “What you don’t think a Queen can rest on her bed in comfortable linens?”
“My pardons, Sehlahli,” Lancass said. “Why have you brought us here?”
“Come she said.” They walked down an ancient second staircase that led into a deep basement. Brandesh had thought they had walked for miles and the only thing that made the slow experience bearable was the fine Navory tobacco Lancass had brought. Eventually they reached a chamber. At the door lay three crystals, Sehlahli chanted a spell and tapped the crystals and the huge gateway opened. Lancass couldn’t believe the sight, red, yellow and green crystals of different sizes lined the walls.
“Welcome to the Wall of Crystals,” Sehlahli said.
Finding a hidden pink one, she reached out, handing the warm stone to Brandesh.
“Such warmth, it’s like a purring mountain kitten.”
“Warmth, and power,” Sehlahli said. “Take it, it’s yours. This is a magical crystal, so you will find it helps with your spell-casting.
They walked up the long stairs back to Sehlahli’s quarters. Only Navory tobacco could make such a trip bearable. In Brandesh’s pocket the pink stone vibrated wildly.
Later that night, the men of The Harp played a game of coinbones in the dark tavern late at night. Brandesh, Guy and Lancass laughed, loading their pipes with Navory tobacco and drinking very fine Gohgah in very small amounts.
“Show us the stone Brandesh,” Guy screamed, above the clamour.
“Very well, here.” Brandesh said, taking out the hot stone.
Suddenly the room sat in a hush as elvish vagabonds bowed down to the holy stone, calling it Mother.
Suddenly the gem flew out, spinning around madly and sent out a calming light, which relaxed all the muscles of those it touched.
“Mother,” An elf muttered.
They bid the friendly elves goodbye, and stormed back to the ship, the sun was bright, and Brandesh was merry with his stone. With this rock, he had unbelievable power. He would use this power to smash the South, he knew it.
They spent their time on the ship playing coinbones, poker and chess, nights were spent with Navory tobacco and Lancass’ colorful stories. Lady Bethany even would make Brandesh’s favorite stew for dinner. A month went by, and they had returned to the spires of Sealcrest.
“Now to confess my love to Sarah,” Brandesh said. “Not job or quest could ever distract me… Friends!” He shouted, “LAND HO!”
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