The Azure Wizard (8 page)

It had been a very tense journey since departing the Three Baronies Road for the wilds five days ago. The companions, of course, rarely spoke to one another, and in fact Scarlet neither sang nor tried to give Ethan any Forester advice the entire time. Danger and excitement had also come to them in the depths of ancient forest in the course of their travels, and it was in the form of a pack of Deep Wolves, enormous dark-furred fierce wolves that roamed the deepest regions of the Forests of Greenwell. They had escaped the predators through the skill and agility of their mount, unnamed by its master, and had lost the wolves in the wood. Ethan had never been so frightened in all of his life. Ethan was also quite curious, though, about the lack of name possessed by his Wendlithian companion’s mount. He had come to learn during his studies of the various cultures in the Three Baronies that Wendlithians loved their horses such as they would love a brother or sister, and often they had elaborate beautiful names. Ethan just figured that her lack of attachment to her steed was born from her desire to sever ties for one reason or another with her homeland.

Ethan considered himself to be very fortunate and very lucky to have escaped harm from wild animals in his solitary travels to the Barony of Greenwell through the perilous wilderness of the Barony of Vhar. Though wolves and bears roamed all of the Three Baronies’ wilds from the Vhar Mountains to the shores of Wendlith each barony was known to have a couple odd cunning beasts, different from more natural varieties of animals, suited to its environment.

The Barony of Greenwell was the territory of the Deep Wolves, massive black-furred wolves that grew to be the size of a small horse, and the Barony of Wendlith was the barony of the Sun Cats, great cats similar in appearance to the Ice Cats of the Ice Wilds but for their golden yellow-brown hue. The Barony of Vhar was home to the dreaded Blood Bears, immense territorial bears about twice the size of the Three Baronies’ common bears.

They possessed a shaggy coat of crimson-colored fur that enabled them to withstand the frigid peaks in which they dwelt and also enabled them to better attract mates for they also had very keen sight and scent and could thus locate a suitable mate due to their bright red coats. Another feature of the Blood Bear was their tusks, identical to wild boar’s, that jutted upward from their bottom jaw. All in all they were a terrible animal to encounter out in the wild, and it was a wonder Ethan hadn’t encountered them or any other dangerous wildlife for that matter during his journey. In fact he had never seen a living Blood Bear. The closest he had ever come to sighting one of these horrible beasts came when he was about twelve summers and one of the villagers in North Ridge had returned from a hunting expedition with the pelt of one with the head still attached. It was awe-inspiring for the young storyteller. Ethan couldn’t imagine his late grandmother, Ethyl, slaying one alone single-handedly with naught but her Foresters hand axe, but she had mentioned as much the last night Ethan had spoken with her.

They rode up to the inn, and Ethan noticed the moss-speckled, wooden sign that was nailed above the entry that stated, Deephollow Inn. Very original, he thought sarcastically to himself. They dismounted and Scarlet tethered her horse to one of the wooden pillars that supported the inn’s sagging thatched awning that overhung the doorway. Upon entering the building they found a small taproom with a few tables and chairs of weathered graying wood and a very small bar. There were only a couple of grizzled, old patrons that knew nothing but mead in their later years, a middle-aged, chubby scullery maid, and a similar innkeeper that was also a woman, likely twins.

When the companions entered, and their eyes adjusted to the dim light within that filtered into the room through the moss-shrouded windows, they beheld the folks in the bar staring at them with unmoving visages. It seemed to the two wanderers that the reclusive locals appeared to be gauging them and taking their measure.  It wasn’t a feeling Ethan was very used to, and thus he was, of course, plagued with anxiety. If it wasn’t for Scarlet’s unwavering stoic presence at his side he likely would of turned around and left in a hurry. “We are foreign performers that wish no harm and wish only to enjoy some food, beds, and maybe entertain you a little,” Scarlet stated in a loud voice, naturally with a thick Wendlithian accent.

The small crowd didn’t immediately reply but after an awkward and tense moment the woman behind the counter said, “Aye. Sounds well enough to me as long as you got the coins, lass.”

Scarlet turned to Ethan and whispered, “Use your remaining silvers to get us food and a room. You can make it back later by telling one of your tales.”

Ethan looked doubtful and replied, “No offense, Scarlet, but once I crossed the border into Greenwell I vowed to never tell stories for coins. I won’t allow the legacy of my people to become a novelty act for others. A troubadour may be your calling, but by the Ancestors it is not mine. Besides my remaining five silvers are just enough for one meal and one room, are they not?”

“Maybe in a larger trading-town like the ones scattered down the Three Baronies Road, that would be enough to suit one person, but here in these rural villages five silvers should be enough for the two of us with enough for a tip for the innkeeper. You’re from a village aren’t you? Aren’t you familiar with the cost of inn lodging in your village?”

“North Ridge wasn’t blessed with an inn. The only business we had was a blacksmith,” answered Ethan in a very matter-of-fact tone as he fished out his remaining coins and began walking towards the counter. All eyes in the inn followed him. Scarlet shrugged with a cool smirk and walked to a small table in a small alcove with a window.

He reached the counter, old wood lined with half-empty bottles of various spirits and colors, and nodded with a smile at the innkeeper. “Here are your silvers, milady. We need two rooms and supper for the two of us,” he stated as he laid the coins on the counter in front of her.

As she scooped them up, placing them one at a time into a stitched-on pocket on the front of her stained apron, she replied, “Aye. That’ll be only four coins, lad. Ye gave me one too many.”

“That is your tip, milady, for your generosity.”

She flashed a kind smile at Ethan and said, “We’re cooking up newly caught boar steaks and fresh carrots and potatoes, and with your meals you get a mug of either honey mead or our local specialty, strawberry-cinnamon mead.”

“Excellent. We'll both have your strawberry-cinnamon mead then, my kind lady.”

Ethan strode over to the table that Scarlet had chosen in the windowed-alcove while the innkeeper returned to her supper preparations. When he walked past the two old fellows Ethan gave them a slight nod of respect that was returned in kind. When he sat down across from Scarlet, who, of course, had her back to the window so she could face the taproom, she asked, “So what’s for supper, mother?”

Ethan smirked and answered in a poor interpretation of his grandmother’s voice, “Nice roasted boar steaks, fresh veggies, and strawberry-cinnamon mead. So don’t spoil your appetite, and don’t forget to wash your hands before supper, my dearest Scarlet.”

They both shared a laugh, the first in a while, and Ethan felt the tension between them dissipate signaling a return to normality.

Later that evening after they enjoyed their warm hearty meal, Ethan having stuffed himself for Scarlet had given him her vegetables in addition to his own boar steak and vegetables, Scarlet began singing. Numerous residents of Deephollow arrived around nightfall, some because they wanted to see the travelers that had rode in out of the woods. And it was needless to say that the din of the small packed taproom became as quiet as a church of the Ancestors when her enchanting Wendlithian-accented voice became audible.

There was a time in our land

Before darkness was known

All dwelt in boundless wilds

That stretched even o’er the sea

Peace and innocence reigned and all men were free

In this myth, or was it not a dream,

Was a maiden, the fairest of all

All of her time was spent in the green environs

That her kin called home

But she was alone

One day in a fresh young copse

This maiden strolled and wandered

She then grew tired and lay down her weary head

In but a moment she was asleep

Asleep in dreams very deep

As she rested this way a young woodsman

Ventured to her side

Nothing in his years of sojourn had been as perfect

As the maiden’s pristine face

Thus the woodsman took her as she slept to his sylvan place

When she awoke she was afraid and angered

At the woodsman she did rage

Eventually he calmed her with soothing words

He explained he meant her no harm of any kind

That she was the fairest treasure in all the land that one could find

The maiden did not flee

And over time love for him she felt

Together they enjoyed life and joy and love

Yet her kinsmen had not forgotten her

And their searching led them to the maiden and her roguish sir

At the heads of spears and swords

The woodsman was held

All the while the maiden

Urged them his innocence of any blame

Her kin ignored her pleas and he was slain

In her misery she turned words against them

Her aqua eyes aglow

Dreadful enchantments she did shed

A dying kin threw a spear

That found its way into a heart so dear

Thus it was that our land of the Three Baronies

In the virginity of the Ancient Age

Knew violence and woe

Where once only peace and glory was grown

New seeds of a darker sort then were sown

Upon finishing her lament to the innocence lost in the pre-Three Baronies’ mythic early years Scarlet stood, head hanging low in the center of the taproom. Enraptured by the glorious tragic song, among the best the Deephollow Inn had heard in a thick number of seasons, the audience was slow in its applause, but when it did arrive it was an eruption of cheers and claps that roared out into the surrounding village. Scarlet made her slow meandering way back to table, accepting offerings of coins from the astounded crowd of patrons en route.

When she finally sat down across from Ethan and her fans began to disperse back to their tables and conversations Ethan, also awed by the performance, stammered, “Scarlet, that was amazing.”

She shrugged with a smirk and took a pull from a full bottle of Summer Lily wine that had been gifted to her by one of the patrons. Ethan marveled at her beauty.

It was nearly midnight when Ethan and Scarlet retired to their own separate moderate-sized rooms located across the hall from one another. And it was sometime in the early pre-dawn morning when Ethan awoke in his bed. But he wasn’t alone.

He lay in the center of his bed on his back and Scarlet straddled his hips, leaning forward over him with her crimson eyes gazing unblinkingly into his own startled amber orbs. She was completely nude, her dark smooth skin reflecting just a little of the soft blue moonlight that came into the room through the room’s small window, and her pale blond hair hung loose down her back and shoulders.

“Uh, Scarlet, what are you doing?” whispered Ethan as he tried to lift his head a little off of the pillow. That’s when he noticed Scarlet’s short sword blade lay dangerously across his throat. He looked to the side to see her curved short sword with the ruby in the pommel gripped firmly in her left hand and the blade resting horizontally crossed his neck. “What in the Soul Wastes do you think you’re doing? Believe me, you don’t need to force me or anything,” he laughed nervously.

She didn’t say anything or move in the slightest, not even blinking. “Okay,” Ethan whispered to himself in confused tones and he attempted to slide out from under Scarlet.

In an instant she pressed the razor edge of her sword harder against his throat and her vivid crimson eyes grew wider on her expressionless face.

“Ethan, I am not who you think I am,” she stated in a hollow voice.

“That would explain a lot, I guess.”

“No, Ethan, you do not understand. You are human.”

It was then that Ethan realized that she wasn’t speaking with her Wendlithian accent. He stared at her with a stern searching look, but unfortunately found no answers. “Who are you?” he whispered.

“I have no name, and what I am is of no concern to you,” she answered in that same vacant voice.

Ethan’s firm gaze faltered as panic began to take over and he stammered, “What are you going to do with me?”

Scarlet’s visage finally broke with a thin-lipped smile, but her now-unfamiliar eyes belied no such emotion. “Yes, Ethan, I will humor you. You deserve it. I must slit your throat and bathe in your life blood as you die. Afterwards I will consume your heart. It is as it has always been done.”

Ethan instantly broke into a cold sweat and his hands began to tingle and go numb, his vision beginning to blur and a slight buzzing sounding in his ears. He realized with startling realization that he was going to die here. He had seen Scarlet, or whoever she was, fight and he knew that he, with no combat experience whatsoever, stood absolutely no chance. Just as her fist tightened further around the hilt of her short sword in preparation for her throat-slitting strike the door to Ethan’s chamber door burst inward, dislodging from its hinges. A man stepped into the room, his form concealed in shadow, and a single sliver of pale moonlight shone from the head of a brilliant hand axe held in his right hide-gauntleted fist.