GoCorral

Chapter 13 is done! We’re closing in on the end. I’ve started Chapter 14 as well and 15 and the Epilogue are outlined. I’ve set a goal of writing 1000 words a week that should have me finish by the end of Summer.

Chapter 13 – Return to Shalerton

Blendegad, Galandir, and Tereman rode on horses through the countryside east of Phoenix. All around them were rolling hills of green. A simple dirt road overgrown by weeds but marked by wagon tracks stretched ahead of them towards Shalerton and the rest of Eastern Cimmeria. Wild deer grazed on the plentiful grasses that waved in the wind. A few trees of oak and cedar dotted the landscape. Smaller animals could be seen rustling in the grass and birds swooped overhead catching buzzing insects in their mouths.

The trio returned to Shalerton in style. Tereman had the idea to buy some horses to carry them on the journey. Blendegad and Galandir liked the luxury of the proposition. Not having to walk for days was a warming prospect.

The reality was not so exciting. While riding a horse was certainly easier than walking, it simply moved the pain of travel to a different location. Blendegad and Galandir moaned after the first day and sought unique ways to pad their saddles further. Through some miracle, Tereman did not suffer alongside them. He loved riding. He named his horse Skilros in contrast to the other two who named their animals after their coat colors. Brown for Blendegad’s horse and Spotty for Galandir’s.

They were single file with Tereman in front, Galandir next, and Blendegad bringing up the rear. Tereman stretched his arms up to the heavens as they rode. The sun glinted off his new armor. He wore an enchanted mithral panoply. The mithral held the same strength as steel, but at half the weight. The nearly invisible runes inscribed upon the metal further increased the armor’s strength. Furthermore, the reduced load allowed Tereman to maneuver far easier during battle while maintaining his defenses. The armor was quite comfortable. Not quite enough to sleep in, but Tereman had considered it.

Blendegad had new armor as well. He still preferred the feel of leather armor like he’d worn while protecting Densmith. Thus, Blendegad did not wear metal armor, even the lightweight mithral. He’d gone for the finest leather he could afford, that made from basilisk skin. The hide of the petrifying lizard was as strong as the stone it’s gaze produced. No normal blade could penetrate the protective coating. It was a fine replacement for the simple cow’s leather the bear had destroyed at the nymph’s pool. Blendegad liked the look as well. Small green and brown scales laid together, making them a good camouflage pattern for the woods when he went hunting again.

Galandir had a small addition to his previously unarmored self. The armor spell he knew was difficult for him to cast, so he had found a solution with the Wizard’s Guild of Phoenix. On the elf’s arms was a pair of silver bracers. Magic runs kept his armor spell constantly in place as long as he wore the bracers. An invisible shell protected him from harm, but without the mental strain of the complicated spell.

Tereman said, “I know I keep saying it, but I’m excited for our return to Shalerton. The adlishar won’t be ready for us this time.”

Blendegad shouted from the rear, “And I keep telling you to keep your excitement to yourself. You’ll jinx any chance of success we have with that sort of talk.”

Tereman said, “Bah! You sound like an old man, Blendegad! Relax and enjoy the ride. We’ll be in Shalerton soon and we’ll either be heroes or dead. Either way we won’t have a care in the world.”

“You only say that because you don’t give two shits about your family. I still have my mother to come home to and… And my ass hurts from this ride! There’s nothing to enjoy here.”

Galandir looked around at the land they rode through. The beautiful rolling hills east of Phoenix. Nut trees grew in small groups across the hills and valleys. Deer, squirrels, rabbits, and foxes made their way through the grass and bushes. The world teemed with life as if Artemis was blessing their journey. Galandir said, “It looked like there’s plenty of things to enjoy around here to me.”

Blendegad grumbled, “What does an elf know?”

Galandir said, “I know plenty. I know we’re all stronger after training in Phoenix. We learned things we’d never have been able to learn on our own.”

Blendegad grunted in disagreement.

Tereman shouted back to his friend, “Come now, Blendegad! You know he’s right! Remember how Master Baladir was trouncing us both at the start of our training? We both grew and improved!”

Blendegad said, “His advice still sounds ridiculous to me. How is it better for you to go faster and for me to go slower?”

Tereman said, “You’re as stubborn as a mule. Master Baladir explained all that. I spend too much time in my head, so I needed to act faster. You act without thinking, so you needed to slow down and consider the situation.”

“Consider the situation with a wolf and you’re likely to be bitten.”

“And what about with an adlishar.”

“Probably paralyzed and cut open from neck to navel.”

Tereman said, “You saw how it helped in the practice sessions.”

Blendegad grunted and remained silent.

While at Phoenix The trio had split up to join different guilds that would expand their skills. Tereman and Blendegad trained under Master Baladir in the Fighters Guild. He was an expert in fighting with a single sword and shield. Additionally, Tereman had gone to the Clerics Guild to practice his divine incantations. Blendegad went to the Wizards Guild with Galandir.

The Clerics Guild worked well for Tereman. He studied with Master Heitania. She told Tereman how to speed up his incantations.

“If you say the first part of the spell quickly under your breath, it will go faster. The gods are always listening. They’ll hear what you say and provide their blessing.”

Heitania taught Tereman how to provide sacrifices ahead of time as well. By offering meat and gold before battle he could call on that in exchange for the gods’ blessing instead of wracking his brain for an exchange during the throes of combat.

The most important lesson Tereman learned was channeling magic into his equipment instead of just his body. Enchanting his arm alone risked damage to his sword, shield, and armor. Putting the magical energy of the gods into his gear as well, it became strong along with him. His drills with Heitania showed that he could cut through stone with the technique. He couldn’t wait to use it against an adlishar. Their invisible armor would be nothing before his sacred blade.

The Wizards Guild proved less useful for Blendegad. His particular brand of magic was outside the scope of what the guild studied. The wizards were used to reciting spells from ancient tomes and using specific arcane formulae to create expected results. Blendegad’s hex magic was too wild for their understanding.

A few of the wizards offered to study Blendegad’s magic and through learning, help him to understand it. The wizards were familiar with arcane approaches similar to Galandir’s. Such a mage cast their spells more on intuition and force of will than a particular recipe. Blendegad’s magic seemed similar to that style.

Blendegad realized that any close examination of his magic would reveal its draconic origins. The dragons had made Phoenix suffer along with the rest of Cimmeria during their Hegemony. Fearing what the people of Phoenix would do to him, Blendegad declined the wizards offer. He hadn’t liked the way they’d looked at him anyways. Like a fascinating specimen instead of a person.

Galandir’s learning journey was difficult. The Fighters Guild could teach him physical maneuvers and stances. The Wizards Guild could teach him spells. Unfortunately, the seamless union of them was not a technique either guild practiced. The Clerics Guild had more experience with such techniques, but they weren’t suited for a wild magic mage like Galandir. Wanting to improve regardless, Galandir tried all three guilds.

The Fighters Guild paired Galandir with Master Nagoth, an orc warrior from the east. Nagoth was open about his past. He’d been a prominent member of the Matching Grass tribe, fighting alongside the chieftess during battles. While they were physically strong, they were few in number and too trusting of others. The tribe’s honest nature had been betrayed by another tribe claiming to be an ally. While Nagoth had been sick, his friends and family were brutally killed. He’d escaped only by virtue of being in the hidden cave the Matching Grass used for healing.

Finding himself without a clan, Nagoth had pursued vengeance against the betraying tribe. He’d slain a few of them, but before long he realized his quest would claim his own life. What good would that do his tribe mates for him to die and the last fire of the tribe die with him? He set aside revenge and decided to build a new life for himself.

Of course, Nagoth’s violent actions had attracted the attention of the tribe that betrayed his. He could no longer remain in the Orc Lands. He fled into the west, becoming a Clanless orc.

Drifting from town to town, Nagoth found himself an outcast in Cimmeria. Orcs were no longer welcome after the wars that ended the Conclave. Everyone viewed him only as a raider on the edge of violence. Nagoth leaned into that image. If all he was good for was violence, he would be a man of violence. He became a caravan guard. He protected merchants from bandits, the same type of people they suspected he was.

Nagoth built a reputation for honesty and reliability as a caravan guard. He attracted other guards to him, becoming the leader of his own caravan security company. The business was consistent, reliably, and not without its fun when the occasional bandit raid did occur. As he aged, Nagoth recognized that he could not keep this up together. Sooner or later he would slow down, make a mistake, and die on some piss bandit’s blade.

Nagoth’s business connections informed him of an opportunity. He could train others to perform the work he once did. The best place to do so was at the Fighters Guild. Nagoth joined the guild and swiftly rose to Journeyman. He continued his work on the caravans for a few more years before he earned the Master rank. With his position secure, he bought a house in Phoenix and retired from the caravan guard business.

Naturally, a hobby was needed for him in old age. As planned, Nagoth became an instructor at the Fighters Guild. He trained pupils in the use of two-handed swords, one-handed swords, shields, and spears. For his favorite students he taught them his favorite style, two swords at the same time, one in each hand. This was the method he taught Galandir.

Galandir’s original training with the rangers focused on using two swords at the same time. The ability to attack and defend at the same time with both hands was a well prized technique. Many warriors didn’t have the talent or the will to master dual swords. Galandir was among those that without the will to succeed. The dual swords never clicked with him and he had failed his ranger training.

For years Galandir had hit his head against the obstacle of dual sword wielding. Ranger classes and constant practice never worked. He’d switched to his own style of sword and magic. Only now he realized that was only a variation of the dual sword style. After all, was he not wielding two weapons that could both attack and defend? What did it matter that one was metal and the other magical?

The epiphany struck during the battle with the adlishar by the Shrine of Artemis. Galandir’s method of casting changed as he let the magic flow through the sword itself. His spell went through the blade made by Altheria as well as one of the adlishar silver swords. Every mage had their own way of casting spells. Galandir had thought his was with his hands. Now he knew, his true style was casting through the swords. Not just a sword and a mage, but a true swordmage style.

Galandir explained all of this to Nagoth, hoping the old orc would be able to teach him something. The orc nodded as he listened and scratched the white beard on his green skinned chin.

“It’s a curious power you have there,” said Nagoth. “I think only you can find the depths of this well. I can teach you what I know about fighting with two swords. As for how to combine those skills with magic… I can only hold the rope as you go down the shaft.”

Nagoth drilled Galandir for hours. Channeling magic through his swords was effective, but without practice and control it was unpredictable and useless. The elf swung his swords over and over again, learning to say his magic words at just the right time for maximum effect on the practice dummies he struck. Kindieron to burn if he was about to miss. Stachit to freeze if his opponent would dodge. Fleed to push away an aggressive target and waste their energy. A’dant to pull them onto his thrust. Mastering a’dant as a thrust was the hardest. The physical action of his spells matched the action they exerted on the world. A’dant only worked if he pulled with one hand while thrusting with the other. It remained a scarily effective move.

As time came to wrap up their training, Nagoth engaged Galandir in a duel with wooden swords and no magic. Galandir was roundly beaten.

“Remember this then. Your true weapon isn’t the sword or the magic, but both together. Without one or the other, an old creaky sod like me can still bend you over his knee.”

Galandir thanked his master and left the Fighters Guild practice arena stronger than ever before.

Fighting wasn’t the only thing Galandir learned in Phoenix. He spent a few days at the Wizards Guild studying his magical spells. Pouring through old, arcane manuscripts never helped directly, but it gave him some ideas.

As he read through a scroll on river flow, Galandir thought about the river of magic flowing through his own body. His magic originated in the land itself. As he slept the mana of Gaia entered his body, recharging his body and his arcane power. Galandir felt his mana flow from his abdomen when casting spells. He wasn’t sure, but he guessed the mana collected in his liver and went up through his torso, down his arms, and out through his hands as he cast a spell.

Now he was directing the magic further out, along the swords he held in his hands. Could he direct it into other areas of his body? With this nucleus of an idea, Galandir went to work. After exercising with Master Nagoth he went back to the inn where the trio were staying. Galandir laid in bed for hours, trying different words, gestures, and leg and foot positions to elicit a magical effect. His dedication bore fruit and Galandir learned two new spells.

Soplouw pushed energy out the end of his feet. The spell was a variation on fleed, but by pushing with his feet, he could propel himself off the ground. It allowed for jumps of great height. Although when he first discovered it while lying in his bed the spell propelled him into the headboard.

The second spell was vrosh. Instead of expelling the mana, he could concentrate it in his feet. The extra energy allowed him to move super quickly. Trying vrosh in his bed worked safely, but the same was not true when he tried it outside. Unused to the extra speed, he crashed into the ground a few times as his feet sped out from under his body. Experience was a swift teacher. The spell increased his speed and he rapidly mastered how to use it.

The trio of Blendegad, Galandir, and Tereman had discussed their advancements on their journey. For Blendegad and Galandir, anything was a welcome distraction from the bouncing of the horses they rode upon. For Tereman, strategic preparation for the adlishars meant knowing his allies’ strengths as well. He wasn’t against a little gloating either.

Each of them kept one of the silver swords from the adlishar. The swords had been examined by the mages of the Wizards Guild. The flowing silver surface made it clear that the weapons were enchanted, but how so? The mages determined that the blades contained the typical enchantments for faster and stronger strikes. Additionally, a strange magic connected the blade to the astral plane in some way.

Transporting the silver swords presented a problem. The unusual curved nature prevented a traditional scabbard from being used. Even a curved scabbard for the odd swords of the Egyptians couldn’t accommodate the notch in the silver swords. Carrying the sword in hand was impractical for long distances. Storing the sword in cloth wrapping was similarly impractical as then the swords were inaccessible if the group were to be ambushed.

Blendegad took one of the swords to a leather worker to develop a solution. He crafted a half scabbard. The construction started with a long strip of metal folded into a V shape. A strip of leather surrounded the outside of the V and extended beyond the metal. This valley was attached to a small metal bowl enclosed by leather at the bottom. At the top the scabbard had a loop for the hilt of the sword to rest against. Two additional strips of hardened leather attached the loop to the metal bowl at the bottom. The whole compartment was stretched to fit around the curve of the silver swords.

To use the half scabbard a sword slid in freely through the loop. The blade traveled along the metal V until the point connected to the metal bowl at the bottom. The whole contraption flexed as needed to fit the odd curved shape of the adlishar blades. A tight fit in the bowl and on the loop around the ricasso kept the sword from wiggling around and making noise while walking. The only real risk was missing the metal bowl while inserting the sword.

Blendegad had three of the half scabbards made for the trio. The other sixteen swords were sold to the Wizards Guild, providing ample funds to pay for the group’s training, rooms, horses, armor, and other such items and services they acquired during their time in Phoenix. All that and a sizable purse of gold coins still jingled on the hips of each of the warriors.

Galandir drew his blade from its half scabbard. He admired the shifting silver as the sun shone upon the pattern. Like all swords, it was deadly, but the dancing irregular pattern made the sword seem delicate as well. A river turned into an object. It would break as soon as someone stepped in it, only to reform around the foot. The horse continued walking beneath Galandir as he admired the sword.

Galandir spoke clearly so that both Tereman in front and Blendegad behind could hear him, “What do you suppose it means, the astral plane connection of the swords?”

Blendegad said, “I still don’t understand what that astral plane stuff meant. Feels like you need to be a sage to understand all that magical gobbledygook.”

Tereman said, “I learned a bit about the planes from talking to the temple priests.” He shouted back at Blendegad, “See if you can follow along!” He continued, “The planes of reality define and build existence. We have ours, Gaia, first. Below Gaia is the Ground Realm where goblins, dark elves, and other monsters live. Below the Ground Realm is Erebos, the land of the dead. Deeper is Tartaros, where the evil dead are punished for eternity.”

“Like Sisyphus and Tantalus in the myths?” asked Blendegad.

“Yes, see you know some stories.”

“Right, what’s below Tartaros though. Isn’t that the bottom where the Titans were thrown to be tortured?”

Tereman answered, “Below Tartaros is the other side of the world. Like a stack of… of… greasy wools! One on top of the other after they’ve been sheared from a sheep.”

Blendegad grunted and said, “Going for sheep since that’s Densmith’s business.”

Tereman looked back and smiled at Blendegad, “Everyone knows sheep, Blendegad.”

Galandir tried to steer the conversation back before the other two got distracted with sheep jokes again. They had come up with rhyming couplets about sheep for two hours yesterday. Galandir said, “What about above Gaia?”

Tereman took a breath before he continued, “There’s Mount Olympus, that’s about all in our stack of greasy wool.”

Blendegad said, “You made it all make sense. Where does this astral plane nonsense come in?”

Tereman said, “There are other… greasy wools besides the stack around Gaia. There’s one of fire, one of air, one of earth, and one of water all around us.” Tereman pointed at the sun as he said fire. His arms gestured in a circle above his head for air. For earth he pointed at the ground around them and for water he pointed outwards where the outer ocean was, far away from Cimmeria.

Tereman said, “All those greasy wools aren’t in stacks or even quite shaped the same way. They might fit in between the wool fibers in our stack sometimes.”

Blendegad said, “This where I got lost with the wizards.”

Galandir said, “Shush. I like it.”

Tereman continued, “The elemental planes provide energy for magic along with the energy we get from the gods and Gaia herself. There are other planes outside of those inhabited by other gods.”

Blendegad said, “What other gods? Like the goblins?”

“No, they were cast into Tartaros. I meant the Egyptian gods or the Persian gods. They aren’t on Mount Olympus or the Underworld. Some other place.”

“So some other stack of greasy wools?”

“Yes.”

Blendegad said, “But what about Gaia. She’s in our stack, but the Egyptians live on Gaia.”

Tereman said, “I think Gaia might overlap with other stacks.”

Blendegad said, “Bah! You don’t know.”

Tereman took a deep breath and let out a sigh. “I suppose I don’t. But the part I was getting to was the space between the greasy wools. All these shearings have air between them. That air is the astral plane. A space between the different planes of existence.”

Blendegad said with uncertainty, “And that’s where these swords come from?” He patted the silver sword in the half scabbard at his side.

Tereman said, “They were made there. Nothing is native to the astral plane. At least that’s what they told me. It’s just an empty void between the magical boundaries of the other planes. When we cast spells that draw on magic from other planes, like my healing comes from Mount Olympus and Galandir’s fire magic comes from the fire plane. The spells pull the energy from that plane, through the astral plane, and into ours. With all the magic that gets shoved through the astral plane, some material gets left behind.”

“So that’s where the silver for these swords comes from.”

“Maybe?” said Tereman. “The swords were at least made within the astral plane. That’s how the swirling patterns were created. They’re still connected to the astral plane and allowing little bits of magic to flow back and forth from Gaia to the astral world.”

Galandir gazed at the sword in front of him. The silver swirled in endless patterns like oil on water. He turned the blade in his hand. The sun sparkled off the shifting surface in radiant colors at the edges of each design. This weapon could draw power from other worlds, just like his own magic. Did that mean the sword amplified his magic power?

Galandir said, “Hang on! I just thought of something!”

Blendegad and Tereman watched Galandir as he stopped his horse. He jumped off and moved off the path a ways. Galandir closed his eyes and took a deep breath before drawing his other sword made by Altheria. With his arms outstretched he held the silver sword to his right and Altheria’s sword to his left.

“Stachit!”

The ice magic flowed from his body, down his arms, through his fingers and into each of the swords. From the swords the power poured outwards in a frosty torrent. Galandir used none of the control he usually wielded to shape the ice magic. The mana came out as a large, icy mass with sharp stalagmites poking off of it, one mass on each side of his body.

The ice on Galandir’s right side was clearly larger. Not magnificently so, but he could obviously see the difference.

“Ha! It worked!” Galandir shouted. He ran back to the others. His horse spooked as he approached, so Galandir slowed his pace and sheathed his weapons. A slow step allowed him to grab the reins and calm Spotty down.

Blendegad asked, “You can make ice?”

“Not that,” answered Galandir. “Which one is bigger?” The young elf pointed at the melting ice sculptures.

Blendegad said, “The one on the left.”

Galandir said, “I used the same amount of magic through both swords. The same flow, same spell, at the same time. And the one with the silver sword is bigger! It increased my magic! Made it stronger. It’s the connection to the planes. More magic could come through once it passed through the sword. It’s like a gateway between the planes.”

Tereman muttered, “Fascinating…”

Blendegad said to Galandir, “Hmm. Nice discovery.” Galandir smiled and mounted his horse. Blendegad turned to Tereman, “What about you? Does it do the same to your magic?”

“I don’t know.” Tereman dismounted. He retrieved his old iron sword from where it was wrapped in his saddlebags. Drawing both swords from their scabbards, Tereman walked to a nearby oak tree. A thick branch extended at about elbow height that caught Tereman’s eye. He stabbed the silver sword into the ground and gripped his iron sword with both hands.

“Zeus grant me strength!” The energy of the gods coursed down Tereman’s arms into his hands and blade. Tereman heaved into the branch with the enchanted sword. The blow cut a deep gash into the branch.

“Now the other one.” Tereman stabbed the iron sword into the soft dirt by the silver sword and retrieved the adlishar blade. He held it in both hands and repeated his prayer, “Zeus grant me strength!” The blade came down on a different section of the thick branch, closer to the trunk. The branch shuddered and snapped off the tree. The whole tree shook as it lost a great deal of its crown with the hewn branch.

Tereman nodded and sheathed the silver sword. He grabbed his iron sword and walked back to the others. “Looks like its the same for me. The silver sword is stronger indeed!”

Blendegad said, “Those are some good tricks. Now I wish my magic could work through swords.”

Galandir said, “Maybe it can. You just have to figure out how.”

Blendegad lowered another log onto the fire. Each of them had unfurled their bedrolls around the open fire in a triangle. It was a windless night and the smoke curled upwards into the sky, obscuring the stars in its short path before it dissipated. They had stopped for the night before they arrived at Shalerton tomorrow.

Tereman ran his finger around his tin bowl, collecting the last of the rabbit stew he’d made for dinner. He shot the rabbit with his bow when they came close to camping. Game was plentiful in the hills around Shalerton. He probably could’ve gotten a deer, but there as no need for the three of them on the road. A rabbit along with some olives and salt from their packs made a fine stew.

Galandir turned away from the fire and sighed. He leaned backwards until he laid on his bedroll looking up at the stars. He said, “What are the stars in the planes?”

Tereman thought for a moment then said, “I don’t know. I should’ve asked. They must be in another plane up there where the gods put the constellations. Far above Mount Olympus and Gaia.”

“And the astral plane is between us and them.”

“Sort of. There’s an overlapping confluence… The priests used some big words when they explained it to me. I don’t remember all of it.”

Blendegad said, “He wasn’t paying attention for that part.”

Tereman threw the flayed rabbit’s skin at Blendegad and laughed.

Galandir said, “The adlishar. They have to be from somewhere else. Some other plane. That’s why they have the swords. They came from some other place, but not by walking. By magic through the astral plane.”

Tereman nodded and grunted his agreement.

Galandir lazily brought his arm up and gestured with his finger in a circle. “What do you think their home is like?”

Blendegad said, “Why would it be any different than ours? There’s always someone that wants what others have. They came here to take the lands, property, and people of Cimmeria from us. Just like we took it from the goblins hundreds of years ago. And just like the goblins took it from whoever lived here before them.”

“But do they live in the forests like elves? Or the mountains like dwarves? In cities like humans? That’s what I meant.”

“Those buildings we saw… They looked kind of like snail shells. Where do snails live?”

Galandir said, “Under leaves. If you move around the wet leaves in a forest you can find snails.”

Blendegad said, “Then I guess they live in a forest.”

Tereman said, “Must be a big forest to have snail shells the size of buildings.”

Galandir said, “Maybe the ocean then. I’ve heard there are snails in the ocean. Those ones must get bigger than on land.”

Blendegad laid down on his stomach and blew air through his lips. “So these things can breath water too. Can’t drown them then.”

Galandir picked up a small clod of dirt next to his bedroll. He rolled it between his fingers then threw it up in the air. It fell down and he caught it. He repeated the action until he accidentally broke the dirt clod as he caught it. He rotated his supine body to the others and said, “What do you think all those things in the snail shell were?”

Blendegad said, “Which things?”

“The jelly and the plants you took. And you Tereman, those metal balls.”

Tereman said, “Oh yes. I still have them in my saddlebags.” Tereman leaned away from the fire to where his bags laid on the ground. They had taken the saddlebags off the horses for the night. Tereman pulled two of the iron balls out of the bag. One was the size of a walnut shell and the other was half again as big.

“Let me take a look at them,” Galandir said as he leaned around the campfire. Tereman dropped them in Galandir’s hand. The elf leaned back and gazed at the two balls in his hand. “Let me see…”

Galandir scanned the balls for magical auras. He brought mana into his eyes to see the mana in the world around him. Magical items glowed for him under these conditions. Different colors for different spells. If he focused he could see small flickers of energy coming off these auras. Galandir knew the flickers could tell you more about what an item did to an experienced observer. Sadly he was still a novice.

The smaller ball glowed a mix of yellow and blue while the larger one was a dull silver. Yellow and blue together was a protective conjuration. The smaller ball summoned something that protected. Silver was divination. The larger ball predicted something. Galandir looked at the tiny motes and flames around the balls. The auras danced in front of his eyes but he could learn no more.

Galandir said, “I don’t know. They’re magic. Maybe defensive magic? I can’t tell anything else.”

Tereman said, “Magical? I wish we’d know that earlier! I should’ve taken them to the Wizards Guild and gotten them to tell us what they did.”

Blendegad said, “I guess you aren’t as smart as you think you are.”

Tereman laughed and said, “I guess not!”

Galandir said, “It’s strange though. They’re not the same magical aura at all. You’d think they would be by looking at them without magic sight. Two iron balls of the same size. Why make them with such different enchantments?”

Tereman rummaged in his bags. “Hang on! I want to see what the other ones are like.” Tereman brought out five more of the balls. To his eyes they all had the same dark unfinished surface, an unreflective iron.

Galandir opened his magic sight and saw the magic power of the balls. Together the balls carried all the colors of magic. Galandir rubbed his eyes at the intensity of the light. The auras’ power increased as the size of the ball increased. A larger package for a larger portion of magic. Galandir determined the types of magic emanating from each of the iron balls, but could learn no more.

After Galandir told the others what he’d seen Tereman said, “After we help the people of Shalerton we can bring these to a wizard. Perhaps we have an even greater treasure than the silver swords in our hands.”

Blendegad said, “Is there a way we could use the balls now? A magic item always has a use, right?”

Galandir nodded, “We could. I’ve heard stories of people doing that before. It doesn’t always end well. You might break the item or injure yourself if you use it wrong.”

“What could a ball do?”

“They’re iron. What if you throw it and then the ball turns around and hits your head?”

“Hmm,” grunted Blendegad.

Tereman said, “You don’t have to worry about that, Blendegad. Your head is harder than iron.”

Blendegad smiled for a second before frowning. “The small one then. It won’t dent my head as much.”

Galandir offered the small ball with the silver aura. Blendegad stood to take it and then sat back down on his bedroll. He held the ball on his flat palm. Blendegad gave the ball commands, “Ball, go! Ball, fly! Ball, give me magic power!”

Galandir said, “Magic words aren’t that simple. They mean something, but nothing so obvious.”

“Right. Right. I should try some of your magic words. What are they again? Shoop and feed?”

Galandir sniggered, “No!” He held up a hand and counted with his fingers. “Kindieron,” and a fire flickered over his thumb. “Stachit,” and a snowflake hovered over his index finger. “Spours,” and he held up his middle finger with an invisible shield. “Flowanol,” and water shot out of his ring finger. “Fleed,” and a puff of air pushed upwards from his little finger. “And a’dant,” a puff of air blew downwards as Galandir closed his hand, ending the magical effects.

Blendegad shook the iron ball in his hand, “Kindieron! Stachit! Spours! Flowanol! Fleed! A’dant!” The iron ball remained a lump of metal.

“I didn’t think those would work. It’s unlikely whatever adlishar made that shares the same magic words as me.”

Blendegad grunted and tossed the ball back to Tereman. The ball did not follow the expected arc of Blendegad’s throw. Instead, it stopped in mid-flight and began to rotate around Blendegad’s body.

“What?!” Blendegad shouted. The ball circled around his back and came around in front of him. He grabbed the orb and threw it to the ground. He frantically felt around his body. “Did it do anything to me?” Am I green or something?”

Tereman laughed, “You’re your normal self! Maybe a bit more cowardly than before.”

“Shut up! You don’t have an orb floating around you! Maybe it gave me a disease… You don’t know!”

Galandir said, “Interesting. It didn’t float when you threw it down. Only when you threw it upwards.”

“Huh,” said Blendegad. “You’re right.” Blendegad picked up the ball and tossed it upwards. The ball began rotating around him once more. The trio smiled at the strangely beautiful sight. The orange light of the fire played on the rough iron surface of the ball as it spun around the group’s hex knight. The orbit was slow, only going around him once ever few seconds.

Galandir looked at Blendegad with the magical sight. The ball’s silvery glow was brighter than it was before. Turning his gaze to Blendegad he saw no changes in him. Galandir said, “The ball’s magic is stronger but I don’t see any magic on you. No diseases I think.”

Blendegad grinned and said, “A relief to hear that!” His eyes followed the ball as it rotated around him. “I won’t take any chances though.” He grabbed the ball and handed it back to Tereman. “Let’s find out what these things do properly from a wizard before another one gives me the pox.”

The three of them laughed. The log on the fire popped and hissed as moisture escaped.

Galandir said, “Blendegad, did you do anything with the plants from the…”

“No, not yet. I still don’t know what they’d do. It’d be better if I went back home to test them. My mother’s equipment would work… But I’d rather not go back just yet.”

Tereman and Galandir nodded.

Blendegad said, “I did make some potions in Phoenix though.” He turned and pulled a rolled up cloth out of his saddlebags. Blendegad unrolled the cloth to reveal six small glass vials with light green liquid inside. “These should help with the adlishars. They’re anti-paralysis potions.”

Galandir said, “Will those work though? Gallana’s spell didn’t.”

Blendegad said, “Well… Maybe not. Better than not having them though?” Galandir pursed his lips and nodded his head to the side in agreement.

The fire crackled. The air outside their circle around the campfire grew colder. Blendegad added another log to the fire. He and Galandir laid down in their bedrolls, preparing for sleep. Tereman stared into the fire, up at the starry sky above, then back into the fire.

Tereman sang in a soft voice,

“We do what we can,
With the brief lives we’re given,
We slave and we sweat,
Til our souls leave unbidden,

“At the end of our lives,
We reach the old river,
With two coins to pay,
For our passage across her,

“It all ends the same,
So why do we care?
What matters to us,
If we all end up down there?

“The reason to go,
The reason to fight,
Is for a fat purse of gold,
To take home to your wife,

“And if somehow you live,
And forestall that long sleep,
Maybe the world will be better,
For farmers and sheep.”