Fairyfly II - 6. Belvor’s Inn

Gentle rocking of the carriage had put the young Prince Wilton to sleep that afternoon, but now, it was the very same thing that woke him up. He slowly opened his eyes as the wooden wheels passed over a bump on the road, jolting him awake.

“Mmm, I fell asleep… What did I miss?” he muttered, stretching his arms as much as he could in the confined space. He couldn’t wait for them to make another stop so he could get out and stretch his legs.

As Lord Marshall Dane had promised at the start of their trip, they only stopped when it was necessary to sleep and get some rest. The rest of the time was spent on the road, making fast and steady progress toward the capital city of the neighboring kingdom.

“Not much, your highness,” Osma replied. “You woke up just in time, we’re just about to enter Thenelle.”

“Really? We’re already there?” the prince exclaimed, looking out the window excitedly. It was late in the evening, so there wasn’t much to see except trees and fields in the distance, with a few cottages scattered here and there.

“We are,” the Lord Marshall spoke. “We’re entering the outskirts of the capital of Alduin right now.”

“But we still have days until the ball!” Wilton frowned as he realized what day it was. “See, I knew we needn’t have travelled so quickly. We could have easily stopped at that nice town by the river. They even had a festival and you wouldn’t let us go!”

“We are not here to take a tour of Alduin, your highness. We are here to take you to that ball.”

The prince rolled his eyes in annoyance at the commander’s words. They had arrived with no incidents and with time to spare. There was no reason they shouldn’t relax and see what the capital of Alduin had to offer. After all, it was his first time travelling there, and he wanted to keep the journey in good memory.

“Well, we did get here, and now we have time to waste thanks to you. So I believe we deserve to take a break,” the young man declared, sticking his head out the window. “What do you say, men? Shall we see what taverns in Alduin have to offer?!” he shouted, receiving a chorus of cheers and support from the guards that followed them on horseback. Grinning, he ducked back inside, shooting the Lord Marshall a victorious look.

Osma looked away, trying to suppress a giggle. There was no way she was going to get involved in the discussion, even if she was firmly in the prince’s corner. Whatever the ultimate decision was, she would silently go along with it.

“Well, it seems like the people have spoken,” Wilton shrugged. “As the prince, I declare that we shall stop at the first inn we come across, and go have some fun. We could all use some time to relax and drink something that isn’t water.”

“Very well,” the Lord Marshall reluctantly agreed. The prince was right that they had plenty of time to spare. It would serve no purpose to arrive at the castle before the actual event. That, and he really needed to get out and stretch his legs. “Let us go and try some local food and beverages. But I better not see anyone get drunk.”

It did not take the group long to find a tavern. Right on the corner of a small street on the outskirts of town lay an unassuming little building with a simple sign saying “Belvor’s Inn” hung above the door. The carriage and the horsemen stopped next to it. As the occupants filed out, the guards tied their horses to a nearby post, before the entire group entered the establishment.

The light of numerous lanterns hanging from the ceiling illuminated the place, giving it a warm glow, while the intoxicating mixture of aromas permeated the air. There was a distinct, strong smell of booze, combined with warm aromas of food and spices. About a dozen people were chatting and drinking, spread out over several tables. All of them were men, except one - a blond-haired woman dressed in eccentric, colorful fabrics, sitting alone at a table near the door. As soon as the guests entered, all heads turned to appraise the new visitors.

“Good evening!” Prince Wilton wasted no time in approaching the bartender, greeting him warmly. “Can we get a round of ale for our table? And something to fill our bellies too! We are starving.”

While the rest of the group found a table and sat themselves, the Lord Marshall joined the prince as he chatted with the bartender. The man recited all the food they offered, mostly simple meals that sounded nothing like the prince would be used to. Without showing any signs of confusion, Wilton simply grinned and nodded, ordering whatever sounded the best before walking back to their table.

It was not long before the bartender started weaving through the tables, carrying a tray of drinks for the new customers.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said as he nearly avoided bumping into the blond woman that tried to pass.

“Apologies, how clumsy of me!” she let out an excessive giggle as she briefly touched the man’s forearm. She then slid away, letting him pass.

Soon, everyone had a full glass and plate before them. With loud conversation and laughter, the group dug into their food, forgetting for a moment why they even travelled there in the first place. Even the eternally stoic and reserved Lord Marshall Dane managed to relax as he feasted and listened to the chatter around him.

At some point, Prince Wilton stood up from the table, excusing himself. Dane quickly shot him a questioning look, getting up as well.

“It’s alright, I just need some fresh air. This ale is stronger than I thought,” the prince said, moving toward the door.

“Can’t handle your liquor, huh? I’m coming with you,” the Lord Marshall followed closely by. The prince was his responsibility, and there was no way he was letting the boy out of his sight.

After the warmth of the tavern and the heat from the drinks, the chill night air hit them in the face as soon as they stepped out.

“Nature calls,” the prince shrugged as he walked over to stand behind a nearby tree. He started shivering from the cold, realizing that walking out was perhaps not such a good idea. He would just have to hurry up and go back inside. Perhaps he’d get another sweet bun before they leave for the night.

Once he was done and started walking back, he could see the Lord Marshall was no longer alone. The blond woman from the inn stood very close to him.

“Hey, I’m going back in, it’s freezing out here,” he shouted, but the older man paid no attention to him. The prince smirked, pleasantly surprised by the turn of events. They had barely arrived in Alduin and the man was already picking up women. So the old bastard is finally learning how to enjoy life, Wilton thought to himself. He walked over to the man, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Lord Marshall, did you hear what I said? Or do you want to be left alone? That’s fine by me, in case you-” the prince gasped as the older man turned around, his eyes glazed over as if he were in a trance. He did not seem drunk just a minute ago, so that could not have been it. On the contrary, he looked scary. Granted, with his strict demeanour and military training, he always looked ready to sever your head with his sword, but this was something else entirely. He looked possessed.

“What’s wrong with him?” Wilton asked, looking in panic between Dane and the unknown woman standing behind him.

Before he could even get another word out, the woman whipped out her wand, and a powerful blast of energy threw the prince back, slamming him into a tree.

“Leave us alone, foolish child,” she said dismissively, barely sparing a glance for Prince Wilton. “He’s all mine now,” she added, taking the Lord Marshall by the hand. Without a single word, he followed her down the street and away from the inn.

“What the hell?” the prince groaned as he picked himself up, his back hurting from being thrown into the tree. “What did you do to him?!” he yelled after the pair, but neither of them turned around.

Panicking, the prince scrambled back into the inn, calling his guards for help. All of the men, followed by Osma, leapt to their feet and followed their prince outside.

“That woman, she took Dane! She did something to him and then…” Wilton tried to explain as he rushed back out.

“What? Where are they?” one of the men said, looking around in confusion.

“They went that way,” the prince pointed down the street, which was now completely empty. The Lord Marshall and the mysterious woman were gone.

~~

As soon as Esthor entered the old sorcerer’s home, he was met with a fatherly hug from Khalgos. The young sorcerer could feel himself relax for the first time that night. Being back in his old master’s home felt comforting and familiar. It was the place where he had spent much of his childhood, being raised and taught magic by Khalgos after his parents’ death. He knew the place as well as his own home, from every book on each shelf, to every missing button on the mismatched sofa cushions.

“Thank you for letting me come at this hour, master,” Esthor spoke, his brow furrowed with concern. Even though he had largely surpassed Khalgos in terms of magic skills, he had never stopped calling the old sorcerer ‘master’.

“You know you’ll always be welcome here,” the old man replied calmly.

“Are you alone?” Esthor asked, glancing around. His former mentor’s faithful pet crow was not at its usual location on a stand next to the window.

“Yes, Char is out, probably hunting for food,” Khalgos replied, sitting on a chair and gesturing to Esthor to join him. “Now, tell me what happened.”

Too agitated to take a seat, Esthor kept pacing around the room as he recounted everything that happened that day, from the moment he returned home and found the threatening note. It was only after he finished that he managed to sit down and calm down a little. He noticed a steaming cup of tea waiting for him at the table. Khalgos must have conjured it while he was busy talking.

“Have some of that herbal tea, it will help you calm down,” the old master said.

“I don’t want to calm down, I want to find Rulf,” Esthor replied impatiently. There was no time to waste on trivial matters such as tea.

“I know, and we will, but we need a clear head in order to think.”

Pursing his lips, Esthor took the cup and brought it to his lips, finding himself enjoying the aroma despite everything.

“Thank you,” he finally replied, taking a sip. It tasted good, as always, bringing him back to the past once again. Khalgos would always make him his favorite food and drinks whenever he needed cheering up. “So, what do we do?”

The master sat quietly, staring at the table as if trying to move it with his mind. Esthor could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

“I’m not sure yet. I was looking through some of my books and notes, but I couldn’t find anything that could help us,” Khalgos admitted.

“Then let us look together. There must be something we’re missing!”

Moving over to the master’s extensive library, the two men started perusing through numerous books, scrolls and manuscripts, trying to find a way to undo the curse Esthor placed on Norius. Minutes turned into hours, but neither of them managed to find anything useful.

“Damn it!” Esthor finally snapped, throwing a tome he had been browsing onto the floor. “This is all useless!”

“We have to keep looking,” Khalgos replied, undeterred. “We have the whole of magic at our disposal, there has to be something we could do.”

Quickly picking up the book he had thrown, Esthor suddenly shot back up.

“Hmm, you know…”

“What?” the master looked at him questioningly.

“What you just said. We’ve got all of magic at our disposal, but we’ve been focusing only on the magic we can perform. What about all the other schools of magic we’re not trained in?”

“Mmm, perhaps you’re on to something,” Khalgos nodded, as he stood up to retrieve more books from the shelf. Both sorcerers were experts in conjuring, but there were numerous other schools of magic they had little or no expertise in: shadow magic, illusions, teleportation and many more.

With somewhat renewed enthusiasm, they continued their search, until the old sorcerer looked up, his finger stopped at a passage in a large, red book.

“Did you find something?” Esthor asked excitedly. After so many dead ends, they had to come across a solution eventually.

“Perhaps,” Khalgos replied slowly. “I’ve been thinking… If Norius himself refuses to feel any remorse for what he did, then the only thing left to do is force him to feel it.”

“You don’t mean… mind control?” the young sorcerer asked, his eyes getting wide as he realized what his former mentor was getting at. Mind control was a very rare and powerful form of magic that few sorcerers were able to perform. It was also quite fickle and difficult to sustain. There was no chance either of them would be able to master it even if they had years to practice, let alone hours. “But… we cannot possibly do it. Do you know anyone who could?”

“I know a few mind mages, yes,” Khalgos replied, before letting out a deep sigh. “But the nearest one is… Lyra. She lives up north, on the outskirts of town.”

“That’s brilliant!” Esthor practically jumped out of his chair. He finally had a way to save Rulf. All he had to do was visit Lyra and ask for her help. “And she’ll be willing to aid us?”

“That I cannot say,” the old man shook his head. “I’ve never met her, but from what I’ve heard from others who did… I’m afraid our chances are slim. You might as well be jumping off a cliff and hoping to land on a haystack.”

“I don’t care. If she’s my only hope, I have to go see her no matter what.”

“I know. And I’ll be coming with you. Perhaps together we’ll be able to convince her to help us,” Khalgos nodded in agreement.

Observing the two sorcerers through the cracked window of the library, Quinn smiled with satisfaction as he eavesdropped on their conversation. He had a nagging feeling that following Esthor would pay off, and he was never happier to be right.

“Excellent,” he thought as he shifted into his lizard form and rushed back home, making his way through the underbrush of the Howling Forest. “That was just what I needed to know.”