Shalnark

Shalnark glared over his shoulder from atop his horse. The magicians driving the carriage behind him were still talking about magical nonsense. It had been a constant barrage of magic jargon for the several days they had been on the road to Port Lood. However, an end was finally in sight as the caravan of travelers finally exited the tree line and could gaze upon their destination from atop a hill.

“Ha! There it is!” Don yelled from the carriage. “What a massive city!”

“Port Lood is the primary receiver of all goods coming from south of the Avelorn desert. Men of many shapes and colors populate its streets with stalls peddling foreign items from distant lands.”

“That sounds absolutely wonderful!” Don cheered.

“How fast can you get us on a boat?” Shalnark said.

“Shalnark, don’t be rude. Mr. Tropollo will procure our ship as soon as it is available.”

“My contact is named Roki. He is a lizard beastman that should be docked here this time of year. I can take him up on that favor he owes me, and he should be able to get you on his ship within hours.”

The thought of being on a ship again turned Shalnark’s stomach, but it was far better than being executed as an outlaw magician.

“Surely we can spend some time in the city, Shalnark. Phillip here was gracious enough to share his supplies with us, but you have to admit we are both in need of equipment maintenance and replacement.”

“The sooner we can leave these shores behind us, the better.” Shalnark looked down and felt that Don was right. There was an uncomfortably low amount of daggers on his person. All he had was two throwing knives and the rondel he had stolen from Talix. “But perhaps it couldn’t hurt to resupply a little before we sail south.”

“That’s the spirit! Now, if I could”—Don cleared his throat—“have some of my silver back.”

Shalnark glared at Don and pulled away the coin purse he nabbed from him when they first met. “You somehow got your weapon back. What do you need silver for?”

“I have needed a new one for quite some time. The shaft has just about surrendered.” Don smiled from ear to ear and made his eyes as large as possible.

Rolling his eyes, Shalnark tossed the purse to Don. “Don’t spend it all. Just buy yourself a new weapon and essentials for our journey.”

“You’re giving it all to me? What about you?”

Shalnark just smirked and winked.

“Ah . . . right,” Don said.

Don, Shalnark, and Phillip rode down the hill and across the bridge connecting the isolated island that housed Port Lood to the mainland. There was a multitude of people coming and going from the city—merchants riding into the port carrying the raw materials they intended to sell for profit, fishermen hauling their morning catch to the market, and local freemen crowded the bridge in a line waiting to enter the most prominent city for miles.

The walls surrounding Lood were tall and old, telling the story of the many invasions they had held at bay and the sieges they endured. The local guard kept watch over the walls. Shalnark instinctively counted them as he rode by and kept a mental note of their equipment. It seemed that Port Lood either treated its guards quite well, or they were much wealthier than typical. Most, if not all, were armed with poleaxes and armored in high-quality mail and brigandine.

Shalnark leaned over to whisper to Don atop the carriage seat. “Keep your head down. Try not to attract too much attention to yourself, all right?”

Don nodded like he heard, but his childlike demeanor made it hard to tell if he understood.

“I’m serious, wizard!” Shalnark squeezed Don’s cheeks and turned his face to meet his glare. “I didn’t come all this way just to get caught again.”

“Relax, my friend.” Don batted away Shalnark’s hand. “We took the fastest road to get here and did so with great haste. We did not see any Holy Knights pass us, and Dusk has not seen any pursuing us. If anything, they have long forgotten we even existed and have moved on with their lives.”

He is a fool if he thinks we’re safe. There are enemies around every corner, Ebennen warned.

“I feel the same way,” Shalnark whispered to himself.

The streets of Lood were buzzing with people. Shalnark found it challenging to maneuver his horse through a crowd like this, so he elected to have it help Phillip’s and Don’s horses drive the carriage. He had learned to ride a horse only half a year prior, so his skills as a rider were amateur at best.

The closer the group moved toward the market, the thicker the crowds became. Port Lood’s market dwarfed that of Riverhill’s by a large margin. The people here were noticeably more diverse with a wide range of species and ethnicities.

The carriage drove past a group of beastmen merchants carrying supplies toward the market. One was as small as a child with the head of a rat, and his companion was a giant with the head of a lion. The lion stood just under six and a half feet tall and was strong enough to carry an entire wooden craft over his shoulder. This was the first time Shalnark had ever seen beastmen. The sight of them was unsettling, and it took every ounce of willpower in his body not to stare.

“Quite an anomaly, aren’t they?” Phillip asked, sitting next to Shalnark on the carriage.

“Hmm . . .” Shalnark nodded. He was still cautious of Phillip.

“I suppose you would know that already, considering where the two of you are going.”

“Not really. I had heard the tales of men with the heads of animals, but those two were the first ones I’ve ever seen.”

“For all we know, those two could be brothers. Despite appearing so different from each other, they all still share the same species. Any two beast-people can make children with one another, but the animal their child resembles will match one of its parents. Won’t see any lion-rat hybrids, but you could easily see rats with lion brothers or rats with lion children if one of the grandparents were lions.”

“So, the head they wear is akin to hair color in humans?”

“That’s an excellent analogy,” Phillip said.

“For all we know,” Don cut in, “those two could have been lovers too!”

Shalnark shuddered at the thought of a seven-foot-tall lion bedding a child-sized rat woman. He shook the view from his mind as the group finally arrived at the market square. It took Phillip a while to find a spot to park his carriage and tie down the horses since the square was wholly overtaken with carts, booths, and performers.

“There is so much for sale here!” Don bubbled.

“If you think this is splendid, then you will find the Festival of the Azure Moon vastly overwhelming,” Phillip said. “This fair is large, but the Bouk festivals are said to be among the largest gatherings in the known world.”

“I’ll refrain from shopping too much then. I’ll stick to buying a new hammer and save the rest of our silver for the Festival of the Azure Moon.”

“You won’t find any weapon vendors here, Don. Carrying weapons out in the open is forbidden during the fair, but this law does not extend to the seas. If you want to buy a weapon, you’ll find the weapon vendors upon ships at the docks.”

Upon hearing this, Don darted from the carriage and began to stretch his legs. “Then to the docks I will go. Would you accompany me, Shalnark?”

“I noticed an apothecary at the square that I wish to browse,” Shalnark said.

“And I have other errands I need to run before we meet with Roki,” Phillip said. “If memory serves me, there is an inn near the docks called the Salty Rum Barrel. Let’s all meet there and go to see Captain Roki together.”

“The Salty Rum Barrel. Got it.” Don darted for the docks with Dusk flying close behind.

Shalnark lowered himself from the carriage and started back toward the market. Though he had no silver on his person, he was more than prepared to remedy that problem. This city was far wealthier than Riverhill was. Silver was being carried around like a spoiled cat carries a fat belly. With a crowd that cramped in the streets, stealing a single purse would be easier than breathing for Shalnark, but after his last disastrous failure, he was still erring on the side of caution.

The Invisible Thief then? Ebennen asked.

Be my guest, Shalnark said.

He cast aside his own ego to allow Ebennen to take control. His face changed to represent his surrender of their shared form. Shalnark preferred to wear messy brown hair with a square face, but Ebennen preferred long, straight black hair with more salamandran features.

One of Shalnark’s best tricks was one he liked to call the Invisible Thief. Though his master, Bremman, taught him most of what he knows, Ebennen came up with this trick himself.

“Thief!” Ebennen shouted as he shoved his way through the crowd. “Stop that thief in the green!”

People gasped as he sped by, looking toward the direction he was pointing to see this alleged thief. Most were completely unaware as Ebennen bumped into them in pursuit of this imaginary man. With every shove, Ebennen would tug on belt pouches and coin purses in search of the loosest and the fullest. He managed to nab two and shove them into his cloak’s hidden pocket before continuing his imaginary pursuit.

“Oi! The thief nabbed my purse too!” one of Ebennen’s unaware victims yelled.

“Gods burn that thief! I cannot run any longer on this hobbled leg!”

The on-duty guards on the block came rushing over. “Which way did he go, sir?”

“I think I saw him turn the corner in that alley there! He’s wearing a green cloak and is missing his left eye!”

The fooled victim caught up to Ebennen. “I didn’t even see the blazing bastard! Am I that blind?”

“I just narrowly caught a glimpse of him,” Ebennen gasped. “He flowed through the crowd like spilled water.”

The guards and the two victims, along with a few other good men, went chasing this invisible thief down the alleyway, utterly oblivious that Ebennen was carrying the stolen coins. With a smirk on his face, he melded back into the crowd and put up his hood. He slowly changed the features of his body and face back to Shalnark’s form to effectively disappear should the guards seek him out again. His skin tone brightened, and his hair slowly reverted from Ebennen’s black to Shalnark’s brown. His eyes rotated out, and his nose widened to create an entirely new identity. Once his form was complete, Shalnark removed his hood and found a secluded alley to count his earnings.

Twenty-three silver pieces between the two of them? Not the best Invisible Thief you’ve ever performed, but this should be enough for what we need, Shalnark thought.

That’s more than you could hope to achieve on your own, Ebennen snapped.

With pockets full of silver, Shalnark approached the apothecary’s cart and began to browse. The cart displayed the typical remedies and salves for various ailments. To be able to afford a cart with two well-bred stallions, that apothecary would need to be peddling something far more valuable. Shalnark knew many men just like this apothecary back where he came from, and he knew exactly what kind of wares he could find here if he knew the right way to ask for them.

“Does something ail you, my messy-haired friend?” the apothecary solicited.

“Nothing in particular. I am here in search of a poison. For rats, of course,” Shalnark said.

“How big are the rats in question?” the apothecary asked, peering over Shalnark’s shoulder.

“The . . . biggest kind,” Shalnark emphasized. He subtly opened his cloak, revealing the rondel dagger tucked into his pants.

The apothecary nodded. He retreated to his cart and pulled out a small lockbox. He pulled a key from around his neck to unlock it, revealing a vast collection of small vials. “I’ve got the best rat poisons in town.” He pulled one of the bottles from the box. “Pour this into their tea, and they won’t survive the night.”

“I prefer to handle the pests myself. Do you have anything that would stick to my . . . tools?”

The apothecary nodded, pulling out a vial of a more viscous liquid. “This one here serves a dual purpose. It keeps your steel clear of rust and keeps the rats at bay. Be careful not to cut yourself, though. The oil leaves a nasty rash.”

This was precisely what Shalnark needed. “How much?”

“Sixteen silver. No trades.”

That was fairly steep, but Shalnark didn’t mind much. Poisons such as these had saved him more times than he could remember.

“Throw in a healing salve, and I’ll pay you twenty-three.”

The apothecary nodded. “Done. I’ll also include a dose of the poison’s antidote in case your cat accidentally poisons itself. It’s the only way you . . . I mean, your cat will survive.”

“Thank you. I will be sure to find you again next time I’m passing through.”

The apothecary tipped his hat to Shalnark. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

This stuff will even the odds if we find ourselves in a fight with some heavily armored bastards of the church. Even a little prick of this stuff could turn a battle in our favor.

***

Don

Don made his way to the docks from the fair in search of one of the weapons dealers that Phillip mentioned. He stood in awe of the massive galleon ships docked at the port. To him, they appeared as massive wooden castles floating on the gentle waters of the harbor. Back home, boats seldom were much larger than a canoe and certainly weren’t fit for sea travel.

The docks were lively, with laborers carrying goods to and from the incoming ships. The smell of fish filled the air more than oxygen, and the sounds of bells rang in the air, signaling the coming and going of boats.

After asking around for a while, Don was eventually directed to a ship that was said to be selling weapons taken from enemies of the empire. Don didn’t like the idea of purchasing a used weapon, but so far, it seemed as if it was his only choice.

The ship itself was small next to the massive trade galleons and the Traven navy warships. Judging by their armor and insignia, the crew of the vessel appeared to be off-duty Traven Navy soldiers. Perhaps this weapons trade was their means of making extra silver on the side, profiting from their past campaigns. Don didn’t care too much about the immorality of it all, for he shared no loyalty to the empire. All he wanted that day was a new hammer.

The deck of the ship was set up with several tables covered in various weapons laid out in an organized fashion. A price was written under each one with signs clearly stating “All prices final. No bartering.”

At least six armed soldiers stood posted at the corners of the ship, watching Don intently as he walked aboard. He could feel their gaze trying to penetrate through him, but they were no match for his contagious wide smile.

Don browsed the collection wide-eyed. He had found his current hammer attached to a long-dead soldier upon his arrival to the empire. Before that day, Don had rarely ever seen weapons made of metal. Where he came from, most of the weapons used by the common folk were made of wood, stone, and bones.

Don picked up an arming sword and felt its edge. It was sharp despite clearly being used. He put it back down on the table. Don knew he was too irresponsible to properly maintain a sword, and he had more training with hammers and clubs anyway.

He found an excellent war hammer. The hammer felt heavy in Don’s hands despite weighing no more than a single pound, with a shaft made of dense wood and a head made of pure steel. The head had two differing sides. One had a rough, pronged striking surface, and the other had a single thick spike.

Don gave the weapon a few swings in the air. He was not a particularly practiced weapon wielder, but he knew the basics. His talents were wrestling and hand-to-hand combat. Weapons were easier to use in tandem with his Inner Space Windows.

Don paid the captain and departed the ship with a new hammer in hand. Now it was time to add his own finishing touch to it. He found himself a secluded corner in the alley at the edge of the city and made sure no one was watching.

“Keep watch and alert me if anyone is coming,” Don said to Dusk.

“Will do,” he responded from the rooftops.

Don pulled a white stone from his pouch and drew a perfect pentagram on the bare ground with a series of symbols dotting its edges. He poked his finger on the hammer’s spike until it drew blood and traced a small rune on the weapon’s shaft before placing it on the pentagram. For several minutes, he repeated the same chant.

“By my blood, may this item bind to my body. By my blood, may this item become one with my soul. By my blood, may this item find me wherever I may wander.”

The blood rune burned a brand into the weapon’s shaft. Don smiled at a job well done. Upon the completion of the ritual, Dusk flew down and perched next to Don.

“Shall we meet our friends at the inn?” Dusk asked.

“I’d like to gaze upon the ships a while longer. Aren’t they magnificent?”

“Only humans could create such things, for only humans could be so cruel to the forests,” Dusk spat.

“You seem to forget that the trees are not alive in this world, Dusk. These people are not as bad as the Aardians who knowingly decimate living woods.”

“They may not speak, but the forest is alive nonetheless.”

“I’m not going to let you ruin my day with lectures and metaphors, you dreary bird. Are you coming with me to look at the ships or not?”

“I will come . . . but only to watch your back for predators.”

“Relax, Dusk. What’s the worst that could happen?” Don said as he emerged from the alley back to the docks.

The magnificence of the galleons was much to behold. Their massive wooden frames combatted the raging tide brought from the strong winds of the sea, refusing to yield to their tyranny. Don walked with his eyes to the sky, filled with amazement. The hustle and bustle of the laborers became a mere buzz as he admired the beauty of the galleon figureheads.

“Don!” a squawking voice yelled from the sky. “Don, look out!”

Shaking free of his trance, Don turned around to see a strange projectile spinning in the air toward him. With only a moment to respond, Don adopted a broken casting stance and snapped his fingers. With a mere thought, he Blink teleported a few feet to the right as the spinning projectile zoomed past him to wrap itself tightly around a dockworker behind him. The Blink spell was a modified Jump spell that allowed him to instantly teleport a stone toss away with an almost instantaneous casting time.

“What in the blazing moon was that?”

***

Shalnark

“Make way!” A large collection of guards began parting the dense crowds of people at the fair. There were at least two dozen of them with halberd blades overhead.

Would they truly mobilize this many guards in response to the Invisible Thief trick?

“A bit jumpy, aren’t you?” the apothecary prodded. “Church must have found another outlaw magician.”

“What makes you say that?” Shalnark asked.

“The church only ever sends out a force like that to apprehend outlaw magicians. Regular criminals wouldn’t need nearly that much manpower.”

Burning Hells, Don! What in the name of Damarra have you done?

You need to run! Ebennen shouted.

“Not without Don. He is our only way home.”

“What was that?” the apothecary asked with a hand to his ear.

Shalnark had no time to waste on stealth. He made for the nearest alleyway and began climbing up the walls of the buildings. The nimble rogue ascended the building with grace and speed, reaching the roof of the third story in seconds. He spotted the docks in the distance and plotted his course to get there as quickly as possible. Like a bird in flight, he leaped from rooftop to rooftop, taking special care to not lose his balance. The buildings of this town were tall, and one wrong move could leave him splattered across the alleys bellow.

As he reached the end of the final tall building, he shimmied his way down a wooden support pillar and dropped to the ground, running after reaching the top of the first floor. He sped through the streets in a dead sprint before finally reaching the docks. With a quick scan, he could see that the guards and Holy Knights had not yet assembled here. He still had time.

“Don!” Shalnark yelled as he ran through the massive harbor. Dozens upon dozens of fishermen and sailors buzzed about the docks. “Don, are you here?”