Part 3: Chapter Two: The Court and the Woods

Chapter Two: The Court and the Woods



Dondoran is a small but handsome town, laid out in a confusing wind of streets and houses. After a moment, I notice the smell of the ocean is overtaken completely by a smell like a potter's house. The scent of clay, baked and fresh, saturates the still air.

I find myself lost not a moment into the city. I stumble around, seeking landmarks to steer myself by.



There is a small pit at the center of town; I take my pick of the spirit wafting there. No spirit tamers guard the gates of the castle; the creatures here are weak enough to be picked off by mortal weaponry. I overhear a pair of women talking: "...have you seen the Princess Flora? She's a tomboy, and is always getting into mischief. Exactly like the late queen when she was young. Bet she'll turn into a real beauty in no time."

A princess! I've often imagined myself the hero of a princess in peril, striking down her wicked captor with my magics. I wonder if I could catch a glimpse of her while visiting the king...



I find the tavern easily enough; it's full of workers antsy over being shut out of work. I ask a man who calls himself Rocks why there are so many here: "I'm a clay digger, but I can't go into the woods because of the robber. What to do? Can't work." He returned to his ale, listless. It seems the world is vexed by thieves as of late. One of the men there point my way to one of the king's advisers, an old man named Walter.



I knock on Walter's door and he permits me to enter. I ask him about the thief. Walter grows livid and says, "Everyone talks about the robber in Connor Forest. It's frightening! He sneaked into the castle, tricked the guards, and stole a precious stone. The stone he took is called the Earth Orb. It was used a long time ago, to restore calm when a great disaster befell Celtland."

My blood runs cold. What is happening? The Eltale Book and the Earth Orb, both stolen. The Earth Orb is not capable of the widespread devastation of the Eltale Book, but the four Purest Gems, vested with the symbolic power of the elements, are each great wells of power in their own right. But they are symbols, signs of the pact between man and spirit; using one as a weapon is as brutal and terrible as using a king's knighting-sword to murder. Whoever committed this terrible blasphemy will pay his blasphemy in full.



I cool the fire of anger with the repose of water, centering myself as I approach the castle doors. With one sharp rap from my stave, the great doors part, and I walk through. The guards welcome me, explaining that the Grand Abbot has already informed them of my coming.



I ascend the steps leading to the king's throne room. The guards posted are as full of pent-up anger and impatience as the clay-workers, and many of them sit uncomfortably, trying to keep pressure off of still-healing wouns.



I enter the throne room. King Scottfort cuts a striking profile, proud but beaten. I bow before him. He says, voice booming like a thunderclap, "So you are the master apprentice the Grand Abbot has written about. Welcome to Dondoran." He offers me his hand; after an initial shock at such a casual greeting coming from a king, I take it. His handshake is as mighty as it should be. "I know you are searching for your father Lord Bartholomoy, who is missing on his quest to find the Eltale Book. I would like to help, but first I must take care of a most pressing matter. You may have heard of the brazen thief who stole the Earth Orb from my secret treasury." I nodded. "I sent my troops in pursuit, but they were helpless before the thief's black magic. He now blocks the road to Loch Kilderey. If you are to continue your quest, the roads must again be made safe."

The king gives me permission to make use of supplies found in the castle. I thank him, promise I shall succeed in defeating the thief, and promise not to tax his armory. I balk at his use of the term "black magic." There is no magic truly black and cruel; magic is a gift, an art, and a tool, and itself cannot be evil. The king is no magician, of course, and simply doesn't know better. I, in fact, notice a paucity of spirit tamers; not a one of the knights carries a phylactery. The king's personal bodyguard, Felzen, eyes me disdainfully. He trusts in steel more than spirit.



I help myself to some of the castle's supplies; not too many, of course. That is one of the virtues of water: to take only what one needs. The stately abode is as handsome on the inside as out. I only take this and that; sanctified bread, phials of dew, healing items of no particular expense. There are unclaimed weapons and armors, but I leave each. I am no swordsman, nor have I worn anything heavier than a cloak in the winter. Besides, only blessed steel can absorb the punishment of magic, and I couldn't begin to think of depriving the king of such valuable wares.



I come across a knight by name of Gibson milling in the barracks. "You startled me," he said, "I thought you might have been the thief coming back for more. We never suspected that one man could pose such a threat to the castle, but his magic was overpowering." A mistake sadly common through history... "The castle guards went after them, but they were no match. I am still nursing my wound." I asked him for advise on fighting the thief. Gibson said, "When fighting Solvaring, try to avoid his close-range attack. It does too much damage for such a small lad as yourself." None of the villagers had mentioned the thief's name; I implored Gibson to tell me more.

Gibson said that Solvaring was a monster-killer for Dondoran, going by the proper title of "Beastmaster." He was a strong spirit tamer and good at his work; he even artificed a number of magical puppets he called "Mario-nasties," a pun on "marionette," to defend workers from monsters as they worked. I asked what could have made him steal the Earth Orb from the king, and Gibson can offer no reason. "Perhaps he's gone mad," he said. "Then again, he never really liked the king." Enough to kill his troops? "Eh? You know... that's a funny thing. He tossed us aside like ragdolls, but not a one of us was killed. Hurt badly, yeah. But the man never struck a killing blow."

Magic is capable of such finesse, but one has to choose to refrain from a killing surge of angry spirits. Solvaring must not have wanted to kill... but why? With the kind of power one would receive from the Earth Orb, one could barely refrain from obliterating whole villages, much less strike down foes non-fatally. No technical-pacifist would trade a guiltless conscience for world-scouring power. I wonder how much of the story I'm missing.



Some exploration rewards me with a door tucked into an obscure part of the castle. Through it is an old maid who makes a startled "Oh!" at the sight of me. "Well, well! It's the magician's apprentice! Should the king see a trespasser here, there will be an uproar," she said, as though the prospect of an intruder were the most delightfully scandalous thing ever. I edge toward the door, but she promises not to tell the king. She trusts me implicitly--after all, were I dangerous, the Grand Abbot would not have recommended me so highly. I ask why my presence would be upsetting to the king.

"This is his daughter's room," Kate (her name) said. "He's very protective of her. Unnecessarily, I might add."

The princess's room?

I pass through the second threshold.

Oh my.

...Oh my.



She pivots on a heel, facing me. She smiles with bemused interest. "You enter unannounced? Your manners are worse than a thief's." Her smile widens. She takes a step closer. I lean back, ever-slightly; I don't want to be too close to her for fear of her father killing me by remote through sheer protective rage. She's my age, at a glance. "You're a magician, aren't you?" I try to tell her the phrase is "spirit tamer," but all I can manage is to stutter it under my breath. "Have you come to help us capture the thief?" I nod fast and hard. "I wanted to go after him myself, but father forbade me to leave the castle."

I glance at the sword on her hip. It is sheathed, but the way it bounces on her hip I can tell she is ready to use it. She raises her right hand and points at me--right in the chest, actually, and says, "I command you to go into the forest, find the thief and return our rightful possessions. If you have the courage, my father will reward you handsomely."

I tell her I will indeed capture the thief and return the Earth Orb. She smiles at me; her teeth are shining white and sharpened to killing points, like a shark's. "I have faith in you," she said. "And should you fail, well, perhaps father will let me have a stab at him. Pardon the expression."

I excuse myself. My attraction is undercut with a vague sense of dread.



I leave Dondoran for Connor Forest. I blast aside the beasts on the way and stride through the entrance, ready to raise sword against Solvaring.



No sooner than I enter do I see a stray spirit, and go to fetch it. And naturally my initiative is rewarded with a flight of beasts soaring from the treetops.



Like Were-Hares, bats are a nuisance creature, although they are modestly more dangerous than Were-Hares for their sharp claws and great leap.



My bid for the Healing spell has paid off in increasing the power of the first watery blast. I raise a geyser under a pair of bats, bashing one, though one barely manages to evade. It'll take some practice to get the hang of sweeping up multiple foes.



After the fight, I make use of the healing spell. It only heals a little at a time, but outside of battle I can cast it repeatedly. This spell has the dual benefit of healing me as well as hollowing out the spirit-hollow in my stave, allowing it to store more spirit energy. Repeated casting can restore me to full health at the expense of losing much of my current stores of magic energy.



Here I encounter a team of Kobolds. They are thought-walkers, spiritual creations that mimic abstract human concepts--in this case, of thievery. They are fire-elementals and, like Hell Hounds, spray me with bolts of hard-to-dodge fire. At close range they punish with a damaging tornado-kick spell; there is no easy way for me to dodge the fireball and no way at all to escape the kick. I simply have to suffer the damage and heal up afterward. My staff, pregnant as it is with magic energy and spirits of all sorts, can kill these creatures even faster than a direct spell. It is the difference, I suppose, between using a library to learn how to fashion a grenade and simply dropping a library on someone.



I find a small hut in the woods and approach it. Monsters seem to fear the edifice and refuse to come near. I catch my breath and let my mystic energy return. After a while I decide to enter the little hut.



It seems to be a resting place for the clay workers, warded against monsters. A living phylactery maintains the magic of the place. A stray spirit buds near its roots, a pleasant surprise. I draw in the spirit and leave the hut.

After some debate, I decide to return to Dondoran to rest; the creatures here are stronger than on the road, and I don't wish to overtax myself. I drop into the inn to rest for the night. Who should I find, but--



"It's nice to meet you again, master apprentice," she coos. "I'm surprised you made it this far so quickly. I assume you've heard that a robber is hiding in the forest not far from here? He has blocked off the road to Lock Kilderey. Just our luck! We're stuck here until the road opens."

I tell her that I intend on defeating Solvaring. Her eyes widen in surprise, though barely. She kneels to my level, keeping her gaze perfectly level with mine. "You're a brave one," she said. "Admirable. Good luck, Brian. And may you feed him to the worms."

My sleep that night was deep as the ocean, and as dark.

Next: Death in the woods.