JP Koenig
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Chapter 4 - The Rescue (part 2)
🕑 Added 2025-03-17 01:59:32 +0000 UTCIt took around thirty minutes to save those who could be saved. Taliesin had been able to cast just enough healing to stabilize two guards, while Gunther healed another four. At that point, he did something with the gem-studded leather bracer on his right arm. One of the two guards that Taliesin had cast his spells upon was faring poorly from some injury Taliesin’s limited skills had failed to find. Gunther used his healing ability once more, only this time the glow was laced with black lines.
“That’s it. I cannot cast again without risking burnout. They will survive or die at the whims of Fate now,” said the young man, his face drawn and tired. He cradled his arm as he looked over at Taliesin, who had been bandaging a minor cut on the arm of a guard. None of the six who had been saved were in good condition, although those who had Gunther’s ministrations were noticeably better off. “May I ask your name, stranger, and offer you a pair of pants?”
“I am Taliesin, and I would gladly accept that offer. It is a bit chilly.”
Before Gunther could go find clothes for Taliesin, the paladin walked over then with a bundle of clothes and thrust them at him. “Here. These were Hanef’s, and he was about your size.”
“Thank you,” said Taliesin and immediately began to pull on the clothes with no attempt at modesty. The woman huffed and spun on her heels before stomping away. Taliesin found the trousers tighter than he was accustomed to, and the buttoned blouse was cut strange to his tastes. He left the top third of the buttons undone so that the fabric wouldn’t pull as tightly against his shoulders, before puzzling out the strange assortment of belts that went around the waist.
Gunther looked amused. “Please forgive Katla. She doesn’t show it but she has a kind heart. No one gains a Forging without the blessings of the gods, but Holy Forgings require something…more. As a warpriest, she’s seen more conflicts and tragedies than most.”
Taliesin gave up on figuring out the strange belt. Instead he wrapped the longest one thrice around the waist before tossing the others to the side. He’d figure out the local fashions later.
“Not to interrupt,” said the middle-aged woman, “but may I ask who you are and how you got here?”
Taliesin introduced himself once again, and said “I had a bit of a… mishap… with some portal magic. A few things happened and I wound up appearing here without my… well, anything at all. I’m afraid this entire realm is quite new to me.”
Gunther and the Lady shared a long look, before she introduced herself. Her eyes flitted down to where his blouse gaped open above his belt, leaving a fair bit of his muscular chest uncovered. “I’m Lady Hofstad of the Hofstad noble house in Buverik, but you may call me Solveig. Gunther is my son and the heir to my House. Are you truly an archmage, or just a simple magus?”
“I’ve no understanding of these titles. Perhaps you could explain further, and I can clarify.”
“A magus is someone with a knack for minor magics, and able to enchant equipment. Most are thralls to noble houses and spend their days renewing protective wards and such. An archmage, on the other hand…. They have real power.”
“Ah well, by your definition, I’m far more likely to be an archmage than a magus. Although I will admit, I would need to re-create some of my vestments as soon as possible.”
Taliesin frowned to himself as he considered his aether problem. He needed a better source more than anything else. He’d never been a natural powerhouse, relying more on depth of knowledge and efficiency rather than a deep pool of power. Instead, he’d found or created artifacts that could help him overcome this weakness.
“Then perhaps we could assist each other,” said Solveig. “We could use extra protection in returning to our town, and you could use some understanding of the world you’re in. Once we return to my home, you can meet with the Jarl and see if further partnerships can be had.”
“That is a fair offer,” replied Taliesin. “I’m in quite the need of information, and could stand to make some new friends. Tell me, are the roads normally so dangerous?”
Solveig gave a sigh, her eyes flitting to his torso once again. “In more peaceful times, the roads were reasonably safe. At least, secure enough for trade caravans to go between towns. Of course, local travel was fine. Anywhere within the patrol ranges of the closest settlements. But the Twilight of the Gods is upon us, if the Oracles are to be believed. The death of Loki at the hands of Hercules broke the peace, but it was the death of Hercules and his wife Sehkmet by Vali’s blade that guaranteed the war. The Kemetic gods of Aegypt blame both sides equally for Sehkmet’s death, and Bast in particular is enraged over the death of her beloved sister. You do not want to anger a war goddess that old and powerful. Even Amun-Ra must listen when one such as she speaks.”
“But such fights are held in the heavens, are they not?” asked Taliesin. His experience with his own religion left him ill-equipped. He had not been particularly devout, but the only religion was that of Jesu Invictus, Holy Mother Asherah and Father Jehovah the Peaceful. Three deities to guide humanity through the Challenges of Faith, the Rigors of Life, and the Copper Gate to the Infinite Heavens.
Gunther looked at him oddly. “That is the most convincing statement I’ve yet heard to prove you fell from another realm rather than just teleported strangely within this one. Each of the pantheons have their strongholds. The Kemetic gods have Duat and the Divine Realm of Maat. Zeus fortifies Mount Olympus with his myrmidons while Hades gathers her forces in Tartarus. Blessed Freya protects us from Folkvangr with her valkyries while Odin has his einherjar preparing in Asgard. As long as a balance of power holds, the Twilight shall be a proxy fight. The foul Olympian Boreas has unleashed his minions against us as part of that war so now the gnolls and their ilk plague the roads.”
“More and more raid us every day. I even heard that a yeti joined in the sacking of Kjaransvik,” interjected Solveig.
“Milady, milords, the carriage has been loaded with the wounded, and our dead laid straight with all honors along the road. We’ve salvaged what we could. It would be best if we moved swiftly. Dark will be upon us and we would be best behind stout walls before then.”
Taliesin turned to see Katla walking over, with her helmet tucked under her arm. He stood shocked as he realized that the horns he’d seen on her helmet earlier were actually protruding from her forehead. The two horns began just above her eyebrows, curving slightly back to follow the curve of the skull before extending straight over her dark hair. The horns were white with a gold filigree design extending organically all the way to the tip. The horns blended smoothly into her dark red skin and clear golden eyes. He’d never seen a being like this before.
“What? Do I have something on my face?” asked Katla.
“No, no, my apologies for staring,” said Taliesin.
“Let’s get going,” said Solveig as she climbed into the carriage. “Um, this is going to be tight.”
Taliesin followed Gunther into the carriage to find that three guards were piled onto one bench, leaving the other free for him to share with Solveig and Gunther. The fourth had taken the reins of the carriage with Katla seated next to him. He wedged himself between the carriage wall and Gunther and pulled the door shut. Solveig slapped twice on the carriage and they began to move.
Gunther whispered to Taliesin, “You must not have met anyone with a Holy Forging before. Katla is well along her path. One of the benefits of a Holy Concept is that it removes minor imperfections and scars, which naturally makes them more attractive. She didn’t seem upset about you staring this time, but be careful in the future.”
“What? Oh, right, um, that wasn’t what drew my attention!” Taliesin was surprised. Whatever manner of creature Katla was, it was so normal that Gunther had assumed it was beauty that drew Taliesin’s attention, not the ivory horns and red skin.
“Then what were you looking at? She really didn’t have anything on her face.”
“The horns and the very red skin! I’ve never seen someone like that. Can I ask what manner of being she is?”
“You’ve never seen an emberling before?!” said Gunther, his voice just loud enough to make Solveig raise an eyebrow.
“Umm, no? What is an emberling?”
“Only one of the most basic forms granted from an Elemental Forging?”
“You need to back up a bit. What is a ‘Forging’ and what does that have to do with anything?”
“You don’t know about Forgings either?” Gunther was aghast at the notion.
Solveig shook her head. “Gunther, you’re not helping. Taliesin, in this realm, about one in ten get a gift from the gods called a Forging. This is a passive boon of some variety. Of those who gain a First Forging, maybe another one in ten of those could gain a Second Forging.”
“And this second Forging also has a passive boon?”
“It does not,” she said with a smile. “But the combination of the two allows for an active ability. For example, Gunther here can Heal, while Katla can Smite.”
“I see. So what does that have to do with emberlings?”
“There are two types of Forgings, excluding Holy, which is both types. The first is a ‘Concept’ Forging - Endurance, Strength, Nature and Motion. The second is the ‘Elemental’ Forging - Earth, Sea, Sky and Flame. The first Forging you go through changes you physically in some ways. When it is an Elemental Forging, you gain some of the physical features of elementals. Katla’s First Forging was Flame, so she’s an emberling.”
Taliesin pondered this. It was a new form of human, but still human. Even if Katla was changed from her birth, she was still born of two human parents. “I assume her children, should she have them, would look as she had before the magic of the Forging changed her?”
Gunther laughed. “You’re a sharp one. That’s always the first question, and most everyone guesses incorrectly. Forgings and the effects are granted by the gods, not by lineage. However, the type of a Forging granted can be influenced by parentage, if the gods see fit to grant one. My grandfather, the Jarl, has a Nature Forging which allows, in most people anyway, a more natural gift with woodcraft. They make fantastic farmers or hunters, and blend into their environment most easily. As a noble, it allows the Jarl to more naturally command his armsmen and retinue. For me, this made it easier for Nature to be my first Forging. Upon being granted a Holy Forging as my Second, I was then able to Heal.”
“Fascinating,” said Taliesin, totally taken with this unique use of aether. In many ways it was a diffusion of power across a population. Depending on what abilities a second Forging could develop, this would create an entire elite class of humans who had special skills. He’d seen the effect of Katla’s Smite on the brigands. A full squad of soldiers so armed? An entire company? Taliesin could easily see how that could become a force multiplier. “Are there higher levels of Forging?”
“Oh most certainly,” replied Gunther. “Third Forgings are rare, but not unknown, and rumor has it that a Fourth Forging is possible.”
“Hmm, that’s interesting. So at Second Forging, if you combine all the different types, there are twenty-five common varieties. So at Third Forging, there are one hundred twenty five, and at Fourth there are six hundred twenty five. Are all combinations unique?”
Gunther gave a pleasant laugh. “That is the working theory. However, you are glossing over both ‘depth’ and ‘boost’. The deeper you understand your Concept or Element, the stronger you become. Katla has very strong emberling characteristics, for example, which indicates she has a Deep Understanding of her Flame Forging. Her enhanced beauty and gold and white horns indicate a Holy Concept that may not be as Deep. With a Flame Forging, she can think faster. Her critical thinking and comprehension are boosted. This is a much respected aspect of warpriests like her, who are much sought out as advisors and generals.”
“Fascinating. So Depth is really an indication of power and control of that particular type, either Concept or Element? So by extrapolation, a Deep First Forge could be stronger than a newly minted Second Forge?”
“Theoretically, although as the First Forging is typically a passive change, Depth is usually achieved through age rather than active contemplation. The difference is most often seen between two individuals at the Second Forging. The newly-minted are at a disadvantage to the veterans who’ve had practice and meditation to strengthen them.”
“Such is the truth of all young men and women coming into their own,” said Taliesin. “They are but babes when placed alongside masters of a craft. I’ve yet to see an enthusiastic young soldier able to best a wily veteran, all else being equal.”
“Wise words for someone so young,” said Solveig.
He looked down at his own youthful torso, before looking back up. “I’m afraid I’m not nearly so young as I now appear.”
“Hmm, is that so? Then tell me of your realm, Taliesin,” asked Solveig. “Is it pleasant there?”
Taliesin frowned, expecting the sharp pain of loss. Instead he found a scar healed over. He’d spent a lot of time in his own head, and many past sorrows had been laid to rest far more effectively than he’d realized. “My world was beautiful once, yes, before its destruction. The realm my people now occupy is a wild land ripe with opportunity. Sadly, my path has diverged and I will never be able to rejoin them.”
Solveig looked confused by Taliesin’s words, for there were many layers underpinning the words he spoke. Before she could respond, he spoke again.
“I’ll not burden you with my sorrowful tale. Rather, I’m excited to embrace this new realm and experience all it has to offer. It is a fresh chance to perhaps accomplish what I was unable to do before.”
Taliesin’s words were cheerful and optimistic, but once more there were layers hidden in what he said. Solveig nodded and decided to go along with his positivity.
“Well, I’m certain we would be glad to help you on this journey of… learning?”
“And I will certainly be glad of the companionship,” he said as he glanced at her meaningfully.
Gunther cleared his throat. “Um, yes, well, Mother, we’ll be reaching town soon. I’m sure we can regale Taliesin with tales once we arrive.”
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The village was small with a stout palisade constructed in a circle around it. Taliesin had seen many such hamlets in his years of scrying upon the enemy, and this one was better off than most. The homes within were tightly packed along the palisade, with a few narrow platforms at key defensive points that allowed defenders to peer over the walls. Inside, there was a large open area in the center. In normal times, this would be a natural market and gathering place. Farmers would bring carts of food in while craftsmen would trade away their wares. Come autumn, this would be where the villagers would have a harvest festival of some sort and give young men and women a chance at courting.
Now that winter was beginning, this area would be mostly deserted aside from random piles of firewood. It was natural for people to hunker down around the hearth and allow the slow, dark season to pass by while staying sheltered. It was the time for rest and preparation. Clothes were sewn or mended, new baskets woven and a thousand small tasks done. Wood carving was a common hobby, and the few books owned by the villagers passed around and read aloud. Evenings were for storytelling, singing and merriment - anything to push back the worries. Was the harvest plentiful enough? Shall we make it through without serious illness?
These behaviors varied, of course. Taliesin had seen countless villages across his old realm, from dozens upon dozens of cultures. Yet there was much held in common between humans of all nations, when you got down to the village level and set religion aside. This insight had been earned at a heavy cost - he’d watched all those villages died.
So it was the work of moments upon entering the village that Taliesin was on alert. The houses were shuttered against the cold, of course, but they were also barricaded. Ground floor shutters were nailed shut with extra planks covering them over, and the handful of stables were crowded with people. The center of the village was packed with carts and wagons, many turned on their sides with oilskins and canvas tied overtop to make ramshackle shelters. The people who stayed within were crowded together around tiny campfires and gave the armored carriage a hostile glare. Taliesin watched from the window, and the excitement of the new world drained from him.
“Landsman Varo shall put us up again, I’ve no doubt,” said Solveig with no hint of explanation about the refugees.
Taliesin turned to Gunther, who gave a helpless shrug. “There are more refugees now than when we came by before. The raids must be increasing.”
There was a large multi-floored manor house at the back of the village with a well sized courtyard and stables attached. The carriage driver pulled in as liveried servants rushed out of the stables. Katla stepped down and spoke with them for a few minutes, which sent several scurrying inside.
Taliesin opened the carriage door and stepped out, unwilling to be wedged into the cramped seating compartment any longer. With a deep breath he took in the crisp winter air. The evening was cold and still, the sky clear and full of stars. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen stars so bright, without ash clouds and acid rain creating a permanent haze overhead. He’d gone from a hellscape to an unknowable amount of time in the Void. He sighed.
The sky was beautiful.
Behind him, attendants helped the injured guards from the wagon and into the warmth of the servant quarters behind the stables. Gunther followed along, hovering over the wounded like a mother hen before vanishing through the doors.
“Milord Taliesin, we’ve been welcomed by Landsman Varo into his home. Leave the thralls to their duties. Food and warmth await us within.”
Are magic users considered nobility? Taliesin made a mental note to ask about that soon, but took the title in stride for the moment.
Taliesin turned, reinvigorated by the bracing air, and looked Katla directly in the eyes. “Of course… hmm, I’m afraid I do not know the proper address for a warpriest.”
“I am Arbiter Katla Geirsdottir, milord. I’m no thrall nor a simple postulant. You may address me as Arbiter until we are more familiar.”
“Thank you Arbiter, for humoring my ignorance,” said Taliesin without a hint of regret at his own lack of etiquette or cultural understanding.
“Of course, milord,” she replied, unsure if she was being mocked. He wasn’t laughing at her, but there was a twinkle of amusement, as if Taliesin understood a joke no one else had caught.
Lady Solveig had already retreated indoors, unwilling to brave the cold air for longer than it took to escape to the nearest hearth. Taliesin was soon escorted inside to find the first floor laid out much like a traditional longhouse. He was guided into a banqueting hall just past the entrance. At this hour, most of the seats around the u-shaped arrangement of tables were empty except for a handful of men at the head table. After a swift introduction to Landsman Varo, he was granted a seat at a table close to the hearth fire burning in the center of the room. A platter of food was soon placed before him. Solveig and Varo moved to a quiet corner and engaged in a deep conversation, while Katla vanished into the kitchens. This left Taliesin alone for the first time since he had landed bare-assed on the ground that morning.
The food was well prepared, if a bit simple. Thick bread, venison in gravy, stewed carrots served alongside a horn of beer. Taliesin ate with pleasure as a pretty serving girl batted her eyes at him and kept him in pleasant company and his beer horn filled. Idle conversation with the girl filled his time, with light banter and soft giggles from the woman, until he’d eaten his fill and was prepared to retire.
In the back of his head, Taliesin was turning over ideas for enchanting new vestments. He had to secure a new power source to supplement his magic, as well as new defensive wards. The ones on his old robes had not held up well, but his understanding of aether had grown considerably since then. He stifled a yawn. If he had a bit of privacy, he could even work something up right away.
“My dear, could you be so kind as to point me to where I’ll be resting for the evening?” asked Taliesin as he resolved to work through the night. He could doze in the carriage the next day.
The young woman blushed, and said “If you would follow me, milord.”
She guided him up to the third floor, to a small attic room. She pushed the door open and led the way in. Taliesin stepped past her to find a few candles lit and a simple straw mattress and bedframe pressed along the wall near the chimney. A small iron wood stove pressed against the bricks with a small flame inside. This added to the heat coming off the chimney itself. A tiny desk sat in the corner with a jug of water and small bowl atop it. The space was modest but cozy. It would make a good temporary workroom to get some preliminary enchanting started.
“Will that be all milord? Or would you like me to help warm your bed?”
Taliesin turned to see the serving girl untie her blouse enough to show the curves of her bare bosom showing between the laces. In a moment, he realized it had been far, far too long without any intimacy. Taliesin had suppressed his own wants and desires for many long decades even before the showdown against Balidar the Destroyer. For the first time in longer than he could recall, Taliesin relaxed his self control.
Taliesin untied his cloak and tossed it carelessly into the corner. In two steps, he was next to the girl, who giggled even as he cupped the back of her neck and guided her lips to his. The sensation was electric, a novelty and a reminder that he was more than a lost soul devoid of feeling or a desperate researcher locked away in a tower.
The enchanting could wait, at least for an hour or two.
