Broadswords - 20. The Pendant

Broadswords

Chapter Twenty
The Pendant

With a weakly-burning torch and a rusty dagger, Birten set through the darkness toward Elsior's cabin on foot. None of the villagers had horses, which explained the horribly makeshift stable and lack of attendant. They were, however, generous enough to provide him with the two items he did have. While they weren't as sufficient of tools as he would prefer, he was grateful toward the villagers. Especially considering everything that had happened thus far, they didn't need to help him with anything.

Though they recommended he not depart at such a late hour, he didn't feel that he had a choice. He'd left Daegon alone with this man, this summoner, and there was no telling if he was in danger. Up to this point, Elsior had portrayed himself as meek and rather mild-mannered. However, if he was capable of bringing forth a dragon from the depths of a swamp, there was no telling what he might have in store for Daegon.

Birten resisted the urge to run. Though the landscape was relatively flat, he didn't know the terrain like he did with areas closer to Jhirdyr, and he could easily find a stray boulder or tree and knock himself out in an instant. Plus, with his experience so far with the marshes, he could also find himself waist deep in the gunky water before he knew what was happening. Thus, he walked, but kept a brisk pace.

He kept the dagger firmly grasped in his right hand, in case he had to use it at a moment's notice. The age and improper care of the thing made it next to useless, but it was better than showing up unequipped. He knew it still wouldn't matter much if Elsior truly was capable of magic.

Thinking back to his days of schooling, he tried to remember the different types of magic and which Elsior might possess to allow him to summon a dragon. Thankfully, magic had always been a strong subject for Birten as the concept fascinated him. There was only a small number of magicians per capita in Jhirdyr, and it made it seem more exotic. Because of that, he had retained a lot of information over the years.

His mind immediately went to the vials in the cabin. Elsior could easily be an apothecary, as that seemed a very viable option. However, apothecaries simply made potions, medicines, and the like. As far as he was aware, they weren't capable of summoning. Even persons born of non-magical heritage were capable of becoming apothecaries, as it was the art of mixing of magical ingredients rather than the possession of preexisting magical abilities. It was more of a science than anything, and it was clear that Elsior didn't fit into that category.

The next logical assumption would be a general sorcerer, but that also didn't fit in with the summoning. Sorcerers were able to cast spells, create items, make things disappear. More or less, they could do almost anything that could be imagined as far as magic was concerned. But sorcerers were not able to create sentient beings via magic. They could create the illusion of a ghostly incarnation, sure, or an inanimate version of a real, living creature. However, it was clear that this dragon was capable of operating on its own and was very real. Therefore, Elsior couldn't be just a sorcerer.

He ran through every type of magician he could think of. Alchemist, though that was essentially an apothecary that actually did possess magical abilities, and used strictly natural elements in their magic. Enchanter, except enchanters brought temporary life to non-living things. He even briefly considered the inane idea that it could be non-human magic, such as merfolk or sprite. And for a split second he had almost convinced himself that Elsior was a conjuror, until he remembered that a conjuror simply evoked the spirit of a creature into existence but not a physical being.

Even fortunetelling crossed his mind, even though that was one of the furthest types of magic from what he was dealing. But once he had thought of fortunetelling, he couldn't help but think of divination. While fortunetelling was a more common type of magic, more cut-and-dry, divination was more of an ancient type of power. Fortunetellers could see the future by being in the midst of the person they were reading, or suddenly get a vision. Divination went deeper than that.

Initially, divination was very similar to fortunetelling. Diviners were broken up into what they referred to as mancies. A mancy was nothing more than a branch of divination specific to how the diviner was able to channel their prophetic abilities. There were the elemental mancies, like Hyrdomancy, Pyromancy, Terramancy, and Austromancy. There were more obscure mancies, such as Stichomancy which required a book or Macharomancy which required a weapon.

No matter the type of mancy, however, the ability was largely the same. The mancer was able to use their specific mancy to obtain insights on future events. Eventually, many of the mancies were able to evolve their powers for more than prophecies. They were able to use their mancy to connect with its divining power. Where once a Pyromancer had been able to look into the embers of a fire and make a prediction, they were now able to take control of the flames themselves. In a situation where a Floromancer had once utilized a flower's petals to determine a future event, they could now create a lush floral upsurge across a patch of land with the wave of an arm.

There were some mancies that evolved with rather useless abilities, and there were some mancies that hadn't evolved at all. While all mancers were still able to utilize their abilities for their original divining powers, only some types had advanced to the stage of being able to go beyond that.

While Birten hadn't kept completely up to date with magical studies since his school days, one thing that he remembered very clearly was the Dark Collective. The Dark Collective was an ancient association of mancies that had fully evolved and predominately used their powers for the black arts. As different forms evolved and developed, the Dark Collective would potentially extend an invitation to join them. Because the Collective was a secretive group and focused on darker types of magic, there were many unknowns. Aside from those within the Collective, nobody knew if there was a supreme power, a panel of elders, a handful of electors, or some other form of selection committee. There were no details on the dark inner workings of the association.

One thing he had believed until this point, however, is that Dracomancers had not bypassed the divination stage. Different Dracomancers were able to use various different dragon-related materials or observations to make predictions. Some used claws, some used the wings after the beast had died, and some used the spacing between the eyes. The thing about Dracomancy was that there were several ways to utilize the power for divination purposes, as was true for most mancies that involved living creatures. In fact, some Dracomancers even used overly-spoiled dragon's tongue and fed it to apprentices and used the gibberish they spoke while under the influence as a way to determine future events.

The art itself was complicated, and it was also a very uncommon ability. There were few Dracomancers in existence. Despite their scarcity, if Dracomancers developed the ability to control dragons, it could cause a major devastation to the world.

If Elsior was indeed a Dracomancer, he might be the first of his kind to develop such powers. But Birten focused on the footprints he had discovered as well as the details of Brev's tale. If the prints were genuine and the waiter's story was indeed accurate, Elsior hadn't necessarily taken over the motor functions of an existing dragon. It almost seemed like he had actually created the dragon out of the swampwaters.

No dragon that Birten was aware of could have created the prints he'd seen, nor resemble the beast that Brev described to him. While he was a bit rusty in his magic knowledge, he was damn near an expert when it came to dragonlore. Though the prints had initially perplexed him, he was coming to grips with what he had been presented with. There was too much information at play to assume that it was something as simple as an unknown breed like he had initially presumed. It was unknown alright, but he expected that Elsior had something to do with that.

The thoughts running through his head angered him, and he felt himself involuntarily squeeze harder on the dagger. His index finger had apparently slipped off the hilt and onto the blade. When his grip tightened, the metal cut into his skin and a blossom of blood appeared. He didn't seem to notice. He was too preoccupied thinking about what he would do to Elsior if anything happened to Daegon.

When he reached the cabin, the smoldering of a fire was just visible through the darkness. It was low enough that it didn't shed much light on its surroundings, but Birten could tell that there was nobody outside. By the time he got close enough to the cabin to discern its outline in the darkness, he could tell that the door was closed. He stood still, listening for sounds from within. He heard nothing but crickets, a distant owl's call, and the occasional pop from the dying fire.

Certain that the cabin was empty, he entered. He didn't like the feeling that there was nobody there at that time. It was nighttime; Daegon and Elsior should have been back by that point. It was concerning, but he tried to maintain his composure. He had to assess the situation. If something had happened, it was only he that could do anything about it. Their nearest allies were a week's travel away. It was him, now. Or nothing.

The torch had burnt down to a concerning level, and he knew he had to explore the place quickly. Thankfully, Elsior's cabin was relatively barren. Almost immediately, he noticed the bowl on the table, still full of food. The chair was on its side on the floor.

He leaned in close to the contents of the bowl and inhaled. It smelled off. Not rotten or like it had been prepared incorrectly. He couldn't explain it, but he knew that Elsior had done something to it. He was sure Elsior had drugged Daegon. The bastard.

Continuing to make out what he could in the room, he didn't find anything else that seemed out of the ordinary. He wasn't sure what to do. He had limited information to go off, a shoddy weapon, the darkness of the night, and a rapidly dying torch. Even if he knew where Elsior had taken Daegon, he likely wouldn't have enough time to make it there before he was completely helpless.

A sudden creak behind him made him swivel rapidly to face the sound, and he was met by Elsior's face in the glow of the torch's flame. The abrupt appearance of the mancer surprised him and he gasped reflexively. As he did so, Elsior tossed the contents of a vial into the air. Due to the rapid intake of breath, Birten inhaled a good amount of the powder.

Whether or not it was the same substance used to undermine Daegon, he wasn't sure. But he knew within that it would have a similar effect. He felt his body getting weak, and he knew he was falling but he didn't feel the impact of hitting the floor.

When Birten came to, he was unsurprised to find himself restrained. His wrists were bound in metal cuffs, and similar devices held his ankles. His surroundings, however, were far from what he had been expecting. He was in a small room, completely empty aside from himself. The floor was made of deep white opal, cut into small tiles that went corner to corner. The ceiling was covered in the same material, but a few shades darker. The walls appeared to be made of alabaster.

There was a single door in the room. It didn't open, but a visitor appeared before him nonetheless. He was a middle-aged man, balding with a long grey-tipped mustache. He wore an ensemble of dull brown, with numerous pockets on each article of clothing. It was clear that many of the pockets were quite full. In his hand he twirled a necklace with a vibrant orange gem at its center.

"Who are you?" Birten forced, trying to sound courageous.

"A simple peddler," the man said with a shrug of his shoulders.

"What am I doing here?" Birten said through his teeth.

The man shrugged again. "I couldn't tell you. I do as I'm told, I get my paycheck. That's all I'm concerned with."

"How did we get here?" Birten's voice was beginning to alter from faux-courage to true agitation. The peddler's short answers were irritating him, and the tightness of the cuffs wasn't helping his mood. Not to mention that he had clearly been abducted, and had no idea where he was.

The peddler held up the medallion and smirked an unsettling smirk. "Tetradite. Ya never hear of it? Insanely rare gemstone straight out of the Tetrad Desert. Bewitched with teleportational abilities. Takes me to and from wherever I gotta go in seconds. This is one thing I'll never sell."

Birten grunted. He'd asked who, he'd asked what, he'd asked how, but he mentally kicked himself. He still hadn't asked where. "Where are we?"

"Oestra," the man answered breezily.

He had never heard of a place called Oestra. "Oestra? Where is Oestra?"

The man shoved the gem in his pocket and stared at Birten knowingly. It seemed this had been the question the man had been waiting for. "Oestra is a town near the kingdom." Birten's brow furrowed, and the man's smirk broadened. "Oh, I'm sorry. The kingdom of Jaffe."

Birten choked and coughed; he had been caught unaware by the man's revelation. Not only was Jaffe the furthest kingdom from Jhirdyr, it was also on a completely different continent.