Talix

Hours had passed since Sir Talix met with Bishop Gallen. He saddled his horse, Roana, in the stables and set out for the river docks to meet his new commander. His mare was a stout brown warhorse he had purchased many years ago, trained to show no fear when faced with the onslaught of the undead.

Ever since he met Sophia, he could not shake the annoyance he felt toward her. The sheer arrogance she displayed before the bishop was shameful.

The empire must have a severe shortage of men to resort to recruiting women as Sentinels. There is simply no way she could demonstrate the proper casting positions as well as complete the grappling training.

Talix rode Roana through the streets of Riverhill on his way to the docks, trying to follow the path he made when chasing the outlaws the day prior. He kept eyeing the rooftops, hoping against hope that he would spot one of the outlaw magicians.

That Pallumian wizard was a talented evoker. He was able to open portals so swiftly that he had me surrounded before I could even react.

Thinking of the portal attacks the wizard had cast made Talix’s raging headache even worse. His divine gift of diligence allowed him to patch up the stab wound under his armpit and fix his nearly broken jaw, but the scars and aches still remained. He rode through the market where the larger portals first opened. Leftover residue from the portal’s explosive creation was still scattered around the ground. He turned his gaze toward the chapel and the Holy Knight barracks built into its side.

Around seventy yards. That is an impressive amount of distance. This evoker is no master, but he is competent enough to be dangerous. Perhaps he was a former transporter.

Talix spurred his horse into a trot and arrived at the River Spirits tavern after a short ride through town. He tied his horse tightly to the trough outside and reluctantly entered the common folk tavern. The waft of fishermen and dock laborers flooded Talix’s nostrils, but being a slayer of necrozoa, his tolerance for rotten stenches was high.

The patrons of the River Spirits were crowded around a single table in the center of the tavern. A burly man sat to the right of the table, shoving his club elbow down aggressively as the onlookers cheered on their entertainment.

“All right, Ross, this is war!” the man screamed with a gruff voice.

Sophia sat at the other end of the table. She slapped her scrawny elbow down and yelled, “Indeed, it is, Bertram. Today I win back King Ali-ra’s honor by besting one of Sovereign Ringavere’s shitty backwoods dockworkers!”

The crowd laughed at Bertram’s expense.

Talix leaned toward another onlooker. “Does she truly intend to test her strength against that man?”

“Aye,” said the man. “She’s been reveling with the lads ever since she arrived, but she and Bertram had a spat over Sovereign Ringavere’s victory over the old sovereign. Bertram says us humans were destined to rule this empire since we is bigger and all, so the lady Ross challenged him to a test of merit.”

Talix looked with concern upon the outmatched Sentinel and was about to intervene on the lady’s behalf. Before he could step forth, the pair had already begun their arm wrestle. Sentinel Ross tried to end the match quickly by giving the dockworker a quick shove with all her might, but it was not enough to overcome the apparent difference in strength. Bertram held her back as if he were losing, though it was obviously an act. Ross did everything she could to shove the man’s beefy arm to the table, to no avail.

“Finish the girl, Bertram!” an onlooker yelled.

With a bit of effort, the man slowly pulled Ross back to his side, almost lifting her from her seat. It was everything she could do just to hold him back.

Under the table, Sophia kicked Bertram’s bare shin. As Bertram let out a scream of pain, he reached under the table to put his hand over his aching shank.

Sophia capitalized on the distraction and shoved the dockworker’s hand to the table with one quick, powerful push. “Ha! That’s how it’s done, boys!”

“No fair! That’s cheating!” Bertram cried.

Sophia smiled and held Bertram’s face in her hands. “All’s fair in love and war, Bertram, and I bloody love ya!” She planted a big wet kiss on his cheek and took a long drink of his tankard. “Who’s to buy me my next drink?” she yelled as the crowd laughed in revelry.

Talix waded through the crowd of drunken rivermen and tapped the victorious salamandra on the shoulder. “Sentinel Ross?”

“By day, yes. By night, I am the arm-wrestling defender of Lord Ali-ra’s honor!” she yelled. The patrons responded with a combination of sarcastic cheers and boos.

Talix pulled back on Sophia’s shoulder and could smell the beer on her breath. “Mrs. Ross, I—”

“Ms. Ross to you, Sir Knight. I am not married,” she slurred. A gust of putrid breath slapped Talix in the face.

“Right then . . . Ms. Ross, there are some matters of the church that I must discuss with you. If we could step outside for a moment—”

“I’m fine right where I am, Aldass.”

Talix was doing what he could to contain his frustration. The reveling patrons bumping into his back and the obnoxious behavior of Sophia were taking their toll on his patience.

“Very well, then. I’ve come here to join you on your hunt for the two outlaw magicians.”

“Grab a drink and join the revelry! We can talk about all that shit tomorrow.”

“You told me to meet you here to discuss our mission. This is hardly the time to be drinking.”

“Relax, Aldass!” Sophia poured a tankard of beer. “I’ll tell you what, Knight. Share one drink with me, and I’ll humor you.”

“My lady, I cannot. Holy Knights abstain from alcohol.”

“Then I suppose we are done here. Good night.” She turned away and began to start toward the crowd once again.

Talix never had alcohol in his life. His uncle, Tichealix, raised him to be a Holy Knight since he was a boy and always kept such influences out of his life to increase his chances of receiving the divine gift of purity during his induction to the Holy Knights. Talix was already on the brink of losing his status and command. Remembering what Bishop Gallen said about small sins and the greater good, Talix believed a single drink was worth saving his knighthood and that Qitos would forgive this single act of impurity.

“Wait . . . I’ll have that drink, my lady,” Talix reluctantly said.

“Now you’ve caught my interest, Sir Aldous!” She smiled and shoved the tankard into his hands.

Talix took one sip of the beer and cringed. How do peasants drink this piss?

Just wishing to get it over with, Talix threw the tankard back and let its contents spill down his throat, trying to down the bitter concoction as quickly as possible. With the last drop from his large mug gone, Talix let out a massive sigh of relief followed by a nasal-shattering belch.

“There. One drink, my lady. Will you accept me into your service now?”

“I may be a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them. I accept your vow of servitude until our job is done,” she said, pouring another tankard and handing it to Talix. “Come then, let’s have us a chat.” Sophia turned to the men she had been reveling with. “Gentlemen, it has been a pleasure, but duty calls. May we meet again. And remember, King Ali-ra will rise again!” The dockworkers gave her a sarcastic sneer. Talix placed the beer-filled tankard on the table. Before Sophia could even lay a hand on her seat, he pulled out her chair for her.

“I see the tales of Holy Knight etiquette are not exaggerated in the slightest,” she japed as she sat.

“I was raised to be a gentleman, Lady Sentinel, and nothing less.” Talix took a seat across from her. “Now that we can talk, I suggest we set out at first light if we are to catch these outlaws promptly.”

“Calm yourself with these suggestions. Last you told me, I was your commander and not the other way around. How about you tell me more about these outlaw magicians? Could you describe the spells you witnessed?” Her slurs were less frequent. It seemed like when it came down to Sentinel’s work, her drunkenness had diminished a bit.

“One was a talented evoker who called himself Don Traveler. He was capable of creating cart-sized portals while under duress and opening smaller portals to extend the reach of his weapon attacks.”

“Spoken almost like a Sentinel. I must admit I was expecting something more akin to ‘He was a child of dark gods, milady!’ or ‘He fornicates with animals.’” Sophia chuckled. “Have you studied magic?”

“Not enough to practice it. I was not born with any gifts. The only sort of magic I possess is what was granted to me by the Gods during my induction ceremony.”

“Is that so?” she said enthusiastically. “I’d love to hear more about that!”

“I would rather not talk about it if it’s all the same to you, Sentinel. May we stay on the topic at hand?” Talix took a big drink out of his tankard out of pure anxiety.

“Fair enough. So this evoker can obviously use teleportation quite well, but did you see any evidence of conjured Beyonders?”

“Not that I could detect. I would assume an evoker of Traveler’s skill would have at least dabbled in demonic summoning.”

“What of the other?”

“The other only demonstrated a single power to me. He could change his face. When I walked to the dungeon to bring him to his trial, he was wearing my face to deceive the guard.”

“I see. He is either a transmutor or some shape-changing beast. Couldn’t be a demon of envy, for if it were, you wouldn’t be talking with me today. Any indication of where they may be going?”

“Don Traveler mentioned wishing to attend some festival in Galatea called the Festival of the Azure Moon. There is no way they will reach the southern jungles by foot or by horse before the Azure Moon rises. They’ll have to travel by sea.”

Talix’s fingers were floating. His face felt numb, and vertigo started to set in. He looked toward the tankard of beer next to him. He thought he had only been taking sips from it during this entire conversation. It was empty.

Did I seriously drink another tankard of that vile garbage?

“Good to know. That means the outlaws will be heading for Port Lood, just like the Librarian. I shall set out tomorrow morning,” Sophia said as she stood.

“Wait, don’t you mean we will set out tomorrow morning?” Talix had difficulty holding himself up without bumping into his chair or the table. Since he’d never indulged in alcohol before, two pints of beer hit his body like two pints of whiskey.

Sophia smiled. “Listen, I said you could serve me. Now I’m ordering you to stay here. I don’t need help.”

Talix accidentally kicked over his chair, trying to walk after her. “Wait. Please, Sentinel Ross. Those bastards stole something dear to me. You must let me come with you and deliver justice.”

Sophia picked up an unfinished drink from the table next to them. “Finish this, and I’ll let you ride with me tomorrow morning.”

Talix did not even hesitate to grab the drink and downed it just as quickly as he did the first.

Sophia stood wide-eyed with her hand still extended. “I wasn’t expecting you to actually do that . . . You’re going to regret that choice tomorrow.”

Talix felt sick. This drink was much worse than the others. His vision began to dim. He could speak words, but they struggled to come out. “I . . . will . . . do . . . what I must.”

Sophia shook her head. “You Holy Knights are a different breed of foolish. Sleep well, Aldous. We hunt magicians tomorrow.”

Talix tried his best to give a bow, but doing so caused him to lose his balance. He tumbled forward and slammed his head on the table beside him. He would not sleep well that night.