Previous Chapter – The Nadarian Heiress
The Starlit Wanderer Series – Part Four
A mere two and a half months before Inugela Nyrea met the heiress in Nadaru, it was a time of relative simplicity for him. He and the rest of the Radiant Vanguards had just defeated Foretell, a powerful spellcaster who claimed to hold sway over a disease that had been ravaging the human population of Hophreda’an for almost a decade. They took their leave of her abode believing all would be well, but that was not so. A single event took place that would set in motion the very struggle Inugela faced in the present.
‘Your master is dead! You’re free,’ said Ember, the human girl in their band of adventurers. These words were unfortunately spoken to the guard of Foretell’s domain. Now, Inugela understood that she had all good intentions, but he had to wonder why she would say that when the guardian was a black knight, a deadly warrior from beyond the realms of Hophreda’an.
The party of six adventurers simply watched on as the knight did not believe those words, deciding to confirm for himself that his master truly was dead. Upon realising that this girl was telling the truth, the black knight charged them in a rage. Whether to avenge his master, or purely out of a lack of control, the being cut young Ember down where she stood.
Inugela, too slow to take control of the situation, watched on helplessly as not only one of his friends were cut down, but two–Seraphina was slain in that instant, her golden skin blemished by the crimson flowing from her wounds in rivers. With two Vanguards cut down, he knew there was only one solution–run. He didn’t hesitate in the slightest to lift Seraphina into his arms, burying all feelings of helplessness with the desire to survive for the both of them. He checked over his shoulder to be sure that Ember had been rescued, before the whole group made their escape through the tunnel leading into the mountain’s depths. They came to a stop outside the tunnel, uncertain of where to run.
‘Bramral, Vyrasira,’ Inugela said as he laid Seraphina at the feet of a burly golden furred leonfolk and a crystalline scaled dragon woman. ‘Watch over her.’ He laid a hand on her wound, and green energy pulsed from his hand, halting the bleeding. With that, he swung around and passed the last of the escaping Vanguards. Not far behind them, the black knight charged, broadsword at the ready. Inugela hurried back into the mouth of the cave, then looked back once more to where Seraphina lay. Her eyes were open, and her wounds already seemed better. Thank goodness.
He called upon the well of primal magics that sourced his power, and made a wish for safety. Great roots and vines sprouted about him, entangling and creating a thick wall between him and that beastly knight. He stepped out of the mess and to the cave entrance. Summoning the last of his strength–and the last drop of coffee from that morning–Inugela reached a hand to the sky, calling upon the element of the moon. Though it was day, the space around him darkened and a beam of moonlight sprung from the ether, striking the cave’s entrance with a great crackling. With that, the entrance into the villainous Foretell’s abode caved in, saving the Vanguards from any further loss, and locking that dangerous black knight away… for a time…
✬ ✬ ✬
Inugela’s second encounter with the Black Knight didn’t end quite as successfully. With nowhere to run and no time to call on his magic, the being cut Inugela down in an instant. It didn’t kill him outright, as Wattabol appeared to need Inugela for something, but it still hurt a lot–as broadswords do. Unable to stand up to the being and quite frankly a little curious about this strange and sudden situation, Inugela was thrown into an empty storage chamber. He hid his healing magics until they left, then tried to fix up the cut on his back with a simple wave of the hand, but there was nothing. Something about this room had been altered to prevent the use of magic. Classic move.
And with that, Inugela waited. Day in and day out, he waited for four days, trying to keep the wound from infecting. It was likely they were trying to starve him, and it was working–never had Inugela gone more than a day without something. He grew weaker and quickly realised how inconvenient life was without magic.
Trying to conserve his energy, Inugela turned to thinking about the room he sat in. Its clean stone walls and strange compartment that hung from the ceiling reminded him of the last time he’d been here, when he was totally and utterly torn to pieces by his fellow Vanguard, who was curious about his thoughts on Seraphina. Ah, the good old days. What I’d give to have an argument with Sylthyra again.
He fiddled with something between his fingers, the wooden ring. It was the only item he managed to smuggle in when all of his gear was taken. Feeling the smooth outside, temptation to slide the ring on nearly took him, but he knew that would ruin the point of it. Does it really matter, now? He didn’t want to think about it–the moment Seraphina would realise that he failed to honour their promise. However, his mind already pictured her standing alone on that cliffside, waiting for hours or more in hopes of seeing him, but he would never make it. Have I failed?
A tickle ran down his cheek, and he quickly swatted at it. Drawing his hand away, he found moisture on his hand. A tear. That was all it took to renew him–to give him the strength he didn’t have. He had only cried once before since he’d lived alone for so long–the same day he joined the Radiant Vanguards. His feelings grew stronger, and that little bit of sadness fuelled something more–a determination.
This wasn’t over.
Something clicked at the entry door, and it swung wide open. Inugela slipped the ring into his boot, folding his hands over his knees innocently. In stepped the Black Knight, this time both swords were sheathed.
‘Wattabol is ready to see you,’ he said in that deep and echoing voice.
This is my chance. Having spent some time alone, and stuck with nothing but his thoughts and memories, Inugela felt something new overcome him–mischief. What could have come out as anger and a desperate struggle to escape, Inugela instead channelled into a sarcastic attitude. After all, he had a mere two days to make a journey over a quarter of the continent away–he had nothing to lose. I need to make this take as long as possible and give myself the best chance I have.
‘Give me a second, I’m dressed improperly,’ he said with a pout.
The Black Knight silently waited for Inugela to put a shirt on, then stepped into the room as the man repeatedly put the wrong buttons into the wrong holes, smiling all the while. The knight gripped Inugela’s arm and twisted it, pushing him through the door and out into a small library room.
‘Yikes, easy there.’ Inugela hurried forward, as slowing meant feeling his shoulder begin to press out of place. The wound on his back dribbled something horrid, so he searched for the knight in the corner of his eye. ‘Hey, friend… David. Can I call you David? That nasty cut from the other day is getting worse, do you mind if I put a quick bit of healing magic into it?’
The knight, David, did not seem to care for Inugela’s request, but then responded, saying, ‘you may heal.’
Happy with that, Inugela placed his free hand onto his back and felt the cool rush of healing energy flow across the seam. For the first time in days, he felt relieved.
‘Now, I don’t wanna push my luck, however.’ Inugela summoned a small golden cupcake into his hand, with many yellow sprinkles dotted on top. ‘I’m a bit hun–‘
‘No food!’ The knight tore the cupcake out of Inugela’s hand and smeared it on the wall of the tunnel they passed through. The Black Knight then had to deal with the issue of yellow sponge caught between the gaps in his gauntlet.
‘Aw, that was one of Bramral’s favourites.’ Inugela made that same sarcastic pouting face from before, and that earned him a second arm twisted behind his back. ‘Ow!’ He decided it best to play it safe until they’d reached wherever Wattabol was waiting. They passed into the room Inugela had first teleported into before being imprisoned, and Inugela quickly eyed a tunnel leading away. That was the way out, the direction he’d escaped through once before. If he could time it just right…
‘The tunnel is still caved in. You cannot escape, that way.’ The Black Knight released one of Inugela’s arms and reached out for a large disc on the wall.
Well that makes things difficult. Nice one, past me.
The Black Knight turned the massive disc, and with it, the door they’d just passed through closed, opening another door across the room. Inugela let himself be pushed into this new tunnel. Now his curiosity hit an all-time high–he’d never been this direction. Passing through a rather short tunnel, they came to a two-way split, each way leading to a separate room. The knight pushed Inugela left, but he simply had to peek right. From what he could see, the room was eerily empty except for a single door which stood upright in the center. The door had no frame or room that it led to, but it was chained to the floor, oozing with some sort of puss running down it. Inugela grimaced and tried to wipe that creepy scene from his mind.
Ahead of him now lay a room that was incredibly colourful and bright. The smell of chemicals caught his nose, stinging it with every breath. He entered a room with its walls full of glass containers, each with a colourful oozing liquid. The jars were satisfyingly organised in a matter of rainbow order, from left to right. And there, waiting in the center with a jar of green ooze in hand, was that small being known as Wattabol.
Wattabol chuckled, and spoke through that expressionless black mask. ‘Look at you, the man who tore dow–’
‘I have a complaint to make!’ That desire to make trouble returned to Inugela.
‘Wha?’
‘The service here is terrible! I haven’t eaten in days, and David here didn’t even let me eat a cupcake I made myself.’
‘Who’s Da–’
‘Oh, and, I think you’ll find it’s a good idea to not let the wounds of your prisoner fester like mine was.’ Inugela tried to turn his back to show the massive split in his shirt and the scar beyond that. ‘I was quite proud to not have any scars, but now we’ll have to see.’ He tapped his foot and clicked his tongue. ‘I give this inn two stars. It would have been one, but I’m rather fond of this place–it has some good memories.’
‘Hit him, please.’
Upon Wattabol’s command, the knight hammered Inugela across the head with a heavy gauntlet. Some cupcake crumbs scattered across the room.
‘Chain him.’
As warmth rolled down the side of Inugela’s head, something pinched his wrist–a manacle attached to the floor. Finally, the knight released his grip and let Inugela freely move. Immediately, Inugela began calculating a plan to escape again. He measured the length of the chain against the size of the room, then looked to the stacks of coloured oozes. Surely one of them had to be some kind of corrosive liquid.
‘Now, do you want to know why you’re here, or not?’ Wattabol paced around Inugela, seeming to stay aware of his reach.
‘Quite frankly, as long as I survive, I couldn’t care less, Wattabol. However, what happened to you? We weren’t that mean to you. We freed you from your old master, if anything.’ Inugela considered that Wattabol may not have had any control over himself. A being as nasty as Foretell would surely use some form of mind manipulation to command her minions.
Wattabol lifted his black mask, but only for a moment. He revealed an old gnomish face covered in warts and sores, the whites of his eyes red with blood. Fitting the mask back onto his face, he said, ‘I needed Foretell, all of us who worked here did. She was going to cure us as thanks for our help in her work.’
‘Why don’t you just go find a cleric? Healing diseases are a big part of what they do.’ Inugela kept turning to face Wattabol, afraid that the being would cast some horrendous magic at any moment.
‘Not when your disease endangers everyone within fifty meters of you.’
‘Just get one to make a house cal–’
‘Shut up! I’ve come this far.’ Wattabol gasped with heavy breath. He shoved a pointed finger at Inugela, waving it back and forth.
‘Alright.’ Inugela raised his hands in defeat, clamping his teeth together. ‘Why am I here?’ Inugela wobbled his head around.
‘Because Foretell may not be entirely dead.’
Cold like a snap frost held Inugela in place. Lies, surely.
‘She’s come back before, but she just needs a new body, and unfortunately, all of her backups in her laboratory were either destroyed or stolen in your little raid. So, I thought she’d appreciate taking that of someone who helped along her last demise. Originally, I was planning on taking that female elf in your group, but then I realised that you weren’t with the rest of your friends, so you made for an easy target.’
‘You spied on us?’ Inugela said, covering his chest with his free hand. ‘What did you see?’ A grin crossed his face.
Wattabol almost answered that question, almost.
‘You’re insufferable, you know that?’ Wattabol growled and stopped circling the fey elf.
‘Remember that female elf you mentioned and the human girl? They taught me well.’ Inugela shrugged, causing the chain to clatter. He tapped his nose with the tip of a finger, with a grin that masked his true concerns. Come on, Inugela, you’ve got to come up with a way out of this!
‘Say, how did it take you this long? I saw one of your portals almost two months ago.’ Inugela scrunched his face into a sarcastic grimace, wishing to insult Wattabol’s poor aim in avengement of Olive, but he kept that choice of words tucked behind his lips.
‘Enough chatter.’ Wattabol clutched the jar of green ooze in his hand and held it up, chanting something in a language that just sounded like gargles and spitting. The stone floor beneath Inugela’s feet glowed with roughly drawn circles, like little blue bubbles about him. It was somewhat cute, until he realised that this was that teleportation spell again, but much more powerful.
‘What are you doing…’ A sourceless wind whirled in the room, drowning Inugela’s voice out. Glass rattled and some hit the floor, splattering in a colourful mess. Even the Black Knight covered his face as the goggles of Wattabol’s mask glowed a sickly green. The jar in his hand shattered, and the green ooze evaporated.
The liquids from the broken jars swirled into the air, forming a multicoloured hurricane around them. The wall of wind and dangerous substances oxidised the first few millimetres of the stone floor, but only in the circle that it touched. As it struck the ceiling, powdered stone and dust fell back down onto Inugela. He held the sleeve of his shirt over his mouth, hoping to halt the burning sensation that scorched his throat with every breath. He closed his watering eyes, but opened them again as something in the whirlwind shifted.
Amidst the chaos of colours and chemicals, a silhouette appeared. Its long robes billowed in the wind, and eyes glowed much in the same way as Wattabol’s mask.
‘I ‘ave arrived,’ echoed a deep feminine voice.
Instantly, Wattabol dropped the magical spell, and colours splattered across the walls and ceiling as the whirlwind halted. He dropped to the floor, bowing to this new figure.
The black knight rattled.
Inugela frowned.
A woman stood before them, long and silky black robes, shoulder length brown hair and long canine ears protruding through it. She had fine facial features, and gazed upon the room as if everyone were just odd objects about her.
‘Well, where am I?’ she asked with eyes on Inugela’s chain.
‘You’re back in your lair, oh great Foretell, in a new body.’ Wattabol lifted his head, raising his beak to see this new being. Inugela could have imagined it, but he swore Wattabol’s head jerked back slightly.
‘So I am,’ Foretell looked at her hands, then to the black knight. ‘That is my spellbound servant, correct?’ She snapped her fingers and the knight stood to attention. ‘Fun.’
‘My master, it is such a joy to have you back.’ Wattabol finally stood, but bowed his head again. ‘To be honest, I originally chose this prisoner as your new body, but it seems you’ve found one for yourself already. You did always prefer a certain aesthetic.’
‘Indeed.’ Foretell waved a hand at the black knight. ‘Draw yer weapon.’
The black knight did just that, holding its broadsword at the ready.
‘Alright, escort me to where I normally work.’ Foretell gestured to the exit, and Wattabol skipped ahead of her, but froze when she didn’t follow. Foretell looked at Inugela for a few moments, seeming a little uncertain. She nodded to the black knight.
‘Kill the prisoner.’
She silently left the room.
‘Instead of taking you to your lab, I have something special to show you.’ Wattabol’s voice echoed and faded as they swiftly left the fey elf and the black knight to face off.
The knight lifted his blade, ready to bring it down on Inugela.
‘Hold on, Dav– knight! This isn’t righ–’ Inugela clenched his teeth and leapt back. He allowed the blade to strike down on the chain, but it hardly scratched the links. ‘Freaking h–’ He leapt aside again as the blade swung at him, just barely nicking the top button off his shirt. He weaved around some more attacks before leaping directly at the knight. Inugela planted both feet on the knight’s chest and kicked, sending the knight stumbling backwards. Again, the knight charged at him, but Inugela quickly slid past the knight, pulling the chain taught and upwards. He swept the knight off his feet, allowing him to clatter to the ground like dropped crockery. Inugela took the opportunity and planted his feet on its back.
Now what? He struggled with what to do with himself, knowing full well that the knight wouldn’t stay down long. Then he saw it. As if waiting for him to pluck it, the knight’s longsword hung in its sheath at the hip. He drew it before the knight could throw him off, and held it up to the light. The double-edged blade had a black handle and guard, with what seemed to be a knight’s helm in the center. Long streaks of white split from the helmet, like rays of sunlight touching each end of the guard. The blade itself shimmered with different colours for a moment, like the colours in oily water. Then, it dimmed to silver steel with a slight white glow to its edges.
Ducalvicus steel? Inugela whipped the blade around, then leapt off the rising back of the knight. He threw the sword into his chained right hand, laying the flat of his blade over his left arm.
‘Why don’t you use this blade instead of that mangy black sword?’ he asked. ‘It’s beautiful.’
‘I cannot,’ said the knight. ‘I swore to only use it in the name of my first leader.’
Wait a minute. Inugela glanced at the symbol on the guard, then back to his opponent. A ducalvicus steel blade with the symbol of a holy knight’s helm? This black knight is…
‘I must end you with this blade, as per my master’s orders.’ The black knight lifted his blade once more, this time grabbing hold of Inugela’s chain in one hand. It swung the killing blow, prepared to sever Inugela in two.
‘Shar Lune!’ Inugela cried.
The broadsword clattered to the ground, as the knight fumbled and had to catch himself. ‘What did you just say?’
‘I said Shar Lune.’
‘How do you know her name?’ The knights helm clunked as it tilted to the side.
Relief washed over Inugela. Finally, he could see his way out of this mess.
‘Well, she’s one of the most famous historical figures in Hophreda’an. The queen who established not only the beginnings of the Hophreda’anian government, but also hypothesised the idea that magic and science are one and the same.’ Inugela didn’t break his stance, but did form a smile as the being was clearly in shock. ‘I’ve spent some serious time in libraries on my travels, and I learned all about Shar Lune’s Chevaliers–women and men who fought with ducalvicus steel blades granted to the Queen’s forces by the kingdoms of old Fearann Mara.’ Inugela began to slacken his posture, but froze as the knight picked up its black blade. The being stood over him, tightly grasping its sword.
‘No matter what you know, you must perish, as per my master’s request.’ The black knight readied to strike again. ‘If I do not complete this, she will take full control of me and kill you anyway. Ready yourself.’
‘No!’ Inugela cried. ‘That’s not her decision to make. Maybe Foretell would have before, but something felt wrong about her, like she’s lost power in this place. I don’t think that woman is even her. The spell Wattabol cast was supposed to give Foretell my body, not summon an entirely new one.’
The knight hesitated once more.
‘You are a knight who once established peace and order in Hophreda’an. I don’t know what made you this undying creature, but I know that your heart of valour and honour is still in there. Right now, your comrade is leading a stranger to a very dangerous laboratory. Who knows if she’ll even let him live once she’s there.’
The knight’s blade lowered.
‘No one is in control of you, now. You can fight for the values you once stood for, with pride.’
The knight lifted his sword once again, swinging it down on Inugela. Steel clattered on steel as the chain holding Inugela was severed. Inugela cheered, waving his cuffed hand about. If he were honest, he felt the urge to make a break for it, just briefly, but then thought about his own words mere moments ago. He looked up to those shining red eyes of the black knight, and smiled.
‘I just have one question.’ He held the blade in his hand up. ‘Seeing as you’re bound by oath and all to use this, could I borrow it until we get my blade back?’
The knight simply turned and made for the door.
‘Alright, off to the creepy lab, then.’
‘No,’ the knight bellowed. ‘Wattabol is going to take her somewhere else, and it is far more terrible than the lab.’
Hurrying through the tunnels that twisted and split, Inugela and the knight made their way to another area he’d never been. Passing into a strange room with a burned stone floor, they arrived at an enormous crack in the wall. The knight squeezed through first, then led the way into a new and wide-open space, dimly lit by torchlight. Pillars stood tall on either side, and the walls were covered in old carved images of battles led by titan-like creatures. One of those creatures held its fist in the air, leading a charge with a glowing wrist, it seemed.
‘A Ruin of the Catalyst,’ said that feminine voice from before. ‘Who’d guess there was one hidin’ under this old dingy lab?’ She arose from a staircase at the far end of the room, alone. In one hand, she held Inugela’s silvery sword, in the other, she held a stone wristband, segments covered in glowing runes.
‘Who are you?’ Inugela and the knight lifted their weapons.
‘Me?’ the woman asked with a titter. ‘Why, I’m Foretell, back from the dead.’
‘Lies!’
The woman laughed heartily, then pouted at the pair. ‘Aw, can’t I have any fun?’ She slowly trotted forward, humming to herself and spinning the stone band in her hand.
The knight looked at Inugela and coughed.
Inugela scowled at his new companion. ‘Oh, don’t you dare say it. She and I are nothing alike… David.’
‘Whatever.’ The woman flicked her wrist, and the torchlight in the room burned to pillars of flames. ‘I can see you’re both a bit out of touch with the times, so let me put it simply for the both of you.’ She let the torchlight dim down again. ‘I am a simple mage in search of all forms of teleportation, Rali Wyndesnar.’
Inugela and the knight exchanged glances and a shrug.
‘Where’s Wattabol?’ Inugela began to close the enormous gap before Rali.
‘Oh.’ Rali grimaced. ‘You mean that pile of ash, over there?’ She gestured to the far side of the room where a small pile of powder rested. ‘Yeah, didn’t need him, so I got rid of ‘im. No need for useless fodder. Though he did scream and run in an amusin’ way.’
Inugela’s face curled into a snarl. ‘How dare you kil–’
‘Inugela.’ The knight held out his hand. ‘I would like my sword back. I will do battle with this mage.’
Inugela hesitated, but handed the blade over.
‘I may not be fighting in the name of my queen, but I do fight in the name of my honour, and for the vengeance of my friend.’ The black helmet turned to the ash pile for one moment, then he sheathed his broadsword. He took up a stance, both hands on the ducalvicus blade’s hilt and one foot forward. ‘You walk upon these grounds like you own them, Rali Wyndesnar, but realise that your thievery of items that do not belong to you, as well as the life of one who has killed no person, has shown a lack of respect for others. I, Coellan Midswather, will not allow you to taint Hophreda’an with your evil any further.’
Coellan charged–blade lowered.
Rali smiled.
Inugela watched carefully.
Coellan closed in.
Rali lifted the silver blade.
Inugela trailed behind the knight.
Coellan lifted his weapon.
Rali cast a spell.
Inugela responded.
As a bolt of lightning left the tip of Rali’s weapon, Inugela traced a faint shimmering symbol in the air. Using far too much of his power, he thrust the symbol forward and it appeared on the back of Coellan’s helm. The bolt of lightning redirected itself at the helmet–the symbol–and struck the charging knight in the head. The lightning rebounded in all directions, only making Coellan’s helm appear as if it were radiating light.
‘What?!’ Rali screeched. She barely had the chance to lift a hand and cast a protective spell. A magical barrier swept over her, blocking Coellan’s mighty blow. The impact forced both of them to stumble backwards, but Coellan recovered first. He swung his sword into the air again, ready to strike, but then Rali reacted. She lifted one finger, a finger that glowed a sickly green. From her fingertip, she unleashed a tiny bolt of green energy.
Coellan’s motion changed, as he clutched his sword, thrusting it in front of him like a shield. From the guard of the blade shone beams of bright light that formed an enormous barrier of pure energy.
The green spell struck the screen of light, but didn’t penetrate it.
‘Die!’ Rali screamed. She pressed further into her spell, and the bolt of green energy grew. The stronger bolt began to crack the shield of light, but not before Coellan responded.
‘Fool of a mage. I died a long time ago–you cannot claim my life,’ Coellan thundered. He peered back toward Inugela. ‘Inugela Nyrea, I bequeath this blade to you. Honour me by using it to protect those around you.’ With that, Shar Lune’s last Chevalier dropped his shield, and the bolt of green energy struck his helm. The green energy spread across his armour, cracking it and withering it as it moved, but Coellan continued to push. Giving one final battle cry, he drew his blade back and thrust it into the mage’s gut. With that, his armour and broadsword crumbled, turning to dust.
Inugela stood in awe. The helmet slowly rolled across the ground, then came to a stop. It turned to ash.
‘I don’t believe this!’ Rali screamed. She clutched the grip of Coellan’s blade and drew it out, then threw it onto the floor. ‘Useless piece of–’ She froze, only then realizing that Inugela was gone.
Inugela pressed his back against the nearest pillar, gasping for breath. Somehow, he needed to cross the twenty-meter room without being struck by lightning or some green death energy. Come on, Inu, think! Don’t let Coellan and Wattabol down.
‘Where’d you go, fey elf? Or was it Inugela? Who cares, you’ll be dead soon!’ Rali’s voice turned harsher by the second, like a sickness was taking her. Maybe that was so. ‘Anyone called you Ray-ray before? I think it suits you.’
Inugela kept his mouth shut, hoping that maybe she would come to him.
‘Where are you!?’ she screamed. A bolt of lightning struck the center of the pillar Inugela hid behind, sending pieces of it slamming into the far wall.
Goodness, calm down. Inugela remained quiet. She was clearly afraid. Afraid of the importance Coellan had just placed upon Inugela, afraid of the magic he’d used–the old magic.
‘Can’t waste my magic.’ Rali hummed to herself and then exclaimed like a small child. ‘I wonder if this will tease you out. Take a guess at what it is.’ She made the sound of a bag being shaken.
My things!
‘That little whelp had it and was so eager to show me your gear. Let’s see.’ Some rattling rung about the room. ‘Oh, some gross dry food.’ The thump of a small bag struck the floor. ‘A potion, no, three potions! My goodness, you were prepared. I think I’ll drink the healing one, keep this strange pink extract, but I don’t need a potion to breathe underwater.’ Something shattered, making Inugela flinch.
He remembered something. Oh, please don’t be in there. Please tell me Wattabol stole it or something.
‘Nice chain shirt.’ A clinking noise filled the room. ‘A single bracer.’ A loud clang. ‘Oh my, I just landed it on that stupid sword like a ring toss game. You should come have a look… Anyway.’ More rustling. ‘I don’t need it, but what’s this? This is cute. It’s a little wooden medallion with a lion on it, but I’m sure it means nothin’ to you.’
That object was extremely sentimental to Inugela–a gift from his friend Bramral after he saved them from the black knight–Coellan. The sound of timber battered against steel. Did it land near the sword?
‘Doesn’t look like there’s much left except money.’
Inugela sighed with relief.
‘Although there’s a ragged old blue coat in here.’
No!
‘And it has something in it. Oh! How pretty.’ The sound of Inugela’s bag and old clothing slumping on the floor filled his ears louder than anything else. ‘It’s a cute blue and purple orchid in glass. I might actually keep this one.’
Inugela’s nails clawed the stone pillar. He chewed the inside of his lip to keep it shut, then tasted something like iron. Don’t fall for it. In frustration, he smacked the stone pillar with his fist.
‘I heard that.’ Rali’s voice had returned to its levelness from when they first met. ‘Sounds like this is quite important. Is it something you made as a child? A memory of someone special? A gift?’
Silence.
‘Yes, I think It might be a gift. I wonder, if I use it as a catalyst, I should be able to teleport to the one who made it and bring them back here.’
No way she can do that.
‘Let’s try it.’
She’s lying.
‘Ah, there she is. Such pretty green eyes, oh, and that golden skin is just astonishing. I’ll retrieve her now.’ With that, a whirring noise filled the room.
Inugela snapped. He raced around the pillar just in time to see a swirling mass of grey mist surround Rali. ‘Don’t you dare touch her!’ he roared. Inugela unleashed a magical ability from deep within him. He flashed like a bright light, teleporting a short distance. As particles of light faded about him, he reached down and grabbed hold of Coellan’s sword and the small wooden coin. Then, he flashed once again, teleporting inches away from Rali.
Her face turned from smug to utterly astonished as Inugela crashed into her mid-spell, throwing her off. In a single instance, Rali Wyndesnar and Inugela Nyrea both vanished from the ruins beneath the mountain, transported somewhere else entirely…
“When one seeks magic purely for control, it is almost never out of a good place. Control is another method used to make those who wield it feel power. And those who use it are the most prone to that ever-driving force we all know as fear. All who sew of it reap ill rewards.”
– C. Depliagus, The Depths of the Mage