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Caladin’s Climb—Part 22
🕑 Added 2022-08-13 05:28:53 +0000 UTCThis story was brought to you by the Tuan'diath Ushwin, who enjoyed Caladin's Climb so much he demanded more.
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Caladin felt like he was turning inside out. He was light-headed. “Did you, umm…” he trailed off, not really sure how to respond. It was the absolute worst-case scenario. Not only had Brorn found out what he did, but he now hated him.
“Did I what?” King Philipus asked. “Are you okay, Caladin?”
“I just… I don’t…” Caladin was at a loss for words.
“It’s okay,” King Philipus said. “You can stay here for as long as you want. Do you want to send a reply to Necro-King Brorn?”
“N-no,” Caladin said. “I don’t think that would be very productive. Does he know where I am?”
“I do not think so,” Philipus replied. “If you don’t wish for him to find out, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.” He stepped forward and took Caladin by the hand. He placed his own hand over Caladin’s in a way that was probably supposed to be comforting. “I am here for you,” he said.
“Thanks,” Caladin said. He felt like the king was being overly ingratiating, considering how long they’d known each other, but it was still comforting to hear. “I think I’ll check out that village, after all. I need time to think.”
“By all means,” King Philipus said with a wide smile. “Look around. I just know you’ll love the place!” He made some signal with his hand and Miss Miller stepped out from the hallway.
“Now?” she asked.
King Philipus nodded.
“I can show you around the village, Cally,” Miss Miller said.
The behavior seemed a little suspicious to Caladin. He looked from Miss Miller to the king and back again. Everyone was all smiles. “Fine,” Caladin said. “Let’s go.” Miss Miller stepped forward. The two guards moved to follow. Caladin placed a hand on the chest plate of the closest one. “That’s quite alright,” he said. “We don’t need any help. Miss Miller knows the way.”
The guards exchanged a look. Caladin didn’t really care much what their orders were. He wasn’t their property. He wasn’t going to allow them to follow him everywhere he went. He wanted to have a genuine conversation with Miss Miller and the other survivors with no filters. Caladin took Miss Miller by the hand as though leading her in a dance. “We need to talk,” he told her as soon as they were far enough away from curious ears. He led her across the throne room towards the exit.
“What about?” she asked.
Caladin waved his free hand back towards the throne. “That,” he said. “Whatever that was. Is King Haedril telling you what to say and do?” Miss Miller pursed her lips but didn’t answer. Caladin raised his hand and pointed up with one finger. He inscribed a quick sonamancy spell to block anyone from overhearing them and wove in a bit of illusion magic for a visual flair. A brief flicker of light floated out from his extended finger. “There,” he said. “Now nobody can overhear us. Just keep walking normally and tell me everything.”
They walked out the throne room doors with the human-shaped hole still in them and into the courtyard beyond. There were soldiers doing drills and about a dozen bodies with sheets over them laid out in rows. “I was told to make sure you didn’t… freak out when you woke up. Then to show you around the village. It wasn’t like he commanded me, but it’s also hard to say no to him.”
Caladin sighed. “I suppose that’s probably just good sense. If one of his eldrin soldiers woke me up I can’t say I wouldn’t have lashed out at him. They said I was asleep for about twenty hours, was I?”
Miss Miller nodded. “Sounds about right. It was the middle of the night when you… showed up. I heard the noises. Woke me up. You were asleep all the next day and through the night again. Why do you ask?”
“Because,” Caladin said. “I’m pretty sure those dead bodies could have been moved by now. Philipus wanted me to see them.”
Miss Miller frowned. “The war isn’t going very well,” she said. “The others are worried about what we’ll do if Haedril’s rebellion fails. We could always go back to the woods, but nobody wants to do that anymore. It doesn’t feel safe after what happened.”
“I understand,” Caladin said. “I wouldn’t want to either. Living anonymously in the woods was never supposed to be a permanent arrangement. My father said we had to, though. It was the only way to escape slavery.”
“Most of the young ‘uns have never even known slavery,” Miss Miller said. “Their biggest fear is going into the woods now. It’s been long enough. Surely, nobody is still looking for us. We could probably slip into one o’ them human ghettos.”
“Probably,” Caladin agreed. “But that might not actually be much of an improvement. If anyone caught on that we didn’t have an owner, we’d all get snatched up.”
They approached the outer gates of the castle courtyard. A pair of guards gave them a salute, then ducked into the gatehouse and started cranking the gates open. The view Caladin saw beyond the gate was of a quaint village on a hill. Little huts sprawled across the land with paths between them. Each hut had a modest garden next to it. The entire village had a stone wall around it that hedged out the surrounding forest. It was a slice of countryside claimed back from the forest through toil and sweat.
A pair of children ran past, one chasing the other. Caladin recognized them as Mrs. Henderson’s boy and Lenny’s niece. They looked older than he remembered. All told, their little tribe of runaway slaves had never been all that big. No more than three score. Caladin wondered who was in charge now. Lenny had always been his father’s second. Now they were both gone…
“Your father would have loved to see this,” Miss Miller said. “It was more than we ever could have hoped for.”
“But now we’re smack in the middle of an eldrin civil war,” Caladin reminded her. “If that fortress is ever assaulted, this village won’t survive five seconds.”
Miss Miller sighed. “It’s nice though, isn’t it?”
“I guess so,” Caladin admitted. He’d never thought about what a difference it would make to be able to live out in the open. Not having to hide their campfires; constantly on the move. “Come on,” he said. “I want to say hi to everyone. It’s been a while.”
The two of them walked down the dirt path through the center of the village. They passed by one-eyed Nate. He’d lost his eye long before Caladin was born as a disciplinary measure for trying to escape their former master. He was wrist deep in a garden full of some kind of greenery. He smiled as they passed. “Hoy, Cally,” Nate waved, hands covered in mud. “I heard you were back. Maybe you can help Marianne pick out a name for this village. ‘M gettin’ tired of calling the place ‘village’. Feels too temporary, ya know?”
“What makes you think I would be qualified to come up with a name?” Caladin asked.
Nate shrugged. “Yer pretty much the only one who can read.”
“I’ll think about it,” Caladin promised. He reached into one of his inside pockets and produced a blank scroll. He inscribed a visceramancy spell he’d memorized that could regrow limbs. It was the sort of thing he was pretty sure was much better to know before you needed it. “Hold still,” he told one-eyed Nate. He pressed the scroll against his forehead and released it. The magic reached into the empty socket of Nate’s eye and dug out all the dead scar tissue. A slug of dead skin forced its way out of Nate’s eye socket. When it fell away, there was a new eye in its place. Visceramancy was gross, but there was no better magic when it came to healing.
“Did you—I can—I can see!” Nate exclaimed.
“Magic,” Caladin said. “It has its uses. Can’t do anything about your name, though. What are people going to call you now?”
“How did you do that?” Miss Miller asked.
“Weren’t you paying attention?” Caladin asked. “Magic.”
“Yes, but the king’s healers weren’t even able to do that. They said there was too much scar tissue.”
Caladin laughed. “Amateurs,” he said. “Obviously, you have to remove the scar tissue before a new eye can be grown.” Caladin had a laugh about the incompetence of King Philipus’s healers while they continued walking through the village. A woman came out of one of the huts with a small child in her arms. She was bobbing up and down as she walked and making shushing sounds. The child was sniffling and rubbing her eyes.
“Janet!” Miss Miller called out. “Is Maddie giving you trouble?”
“I think she had a bad dream,” Janet answered.
“M-momma,” the little toddler cried, reaching towards Miss Miller.
Miss Miller scooped the little girl up into her arms. “Ah. What’s the matter little one? Did you have a bad dream?”
Maddie nodded and sniffled some more. “You were gone,” she said. “Like Daddy.”
“Oh, baby,” Miss Miller cooed. “Your daddy left a long time ago. That’s not anything you have to worry about. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Miss Miller’s husband had disappeared last year during a routine trip into town for supplies. Nobody had found out what happened to him, and out of paranoia, Caladin’s father had moved camp just in case he was interrogated. They left signs for him, but nobody ever came. Just one of the risks of living as a slave on the run.
“Who’s in charge around here?” Caladin asked the two women.
“Nobody’s really in charge anymore,” Janet answered. “Not the way your father was. But Kelly helped everyone decide where to put all the houses. She made sure nobody bickered too much about who their neighbors were gonna be.”
“If she can resolve disputes, then she’s pretty much in charge as far as I’m concerned,” Caladin said. Kelly was Lenny’s younger sister. She had always been a bit eccentric and impulsive, but she meant well and always helped out in her own way. Any complaints about her always filtered back to Lenny, who had no more control over her than anyone else and resented being asked all the time. It was surprising to hear that she was in charge of anything. “Where’s Kelly now?” Caladin asked.
“Oh. Sorry, Cally,” Miss Miller said. “I was supposed to show you around, wasn’t I?”
“It’s fine,” Caladin assured her. “I can handle myself. Maddie needs you. Just point the way.”
Miss Miller walked up and pointed off over Caladin’s right shoulder. “Her house is the one with the you-know-what hangin’ in the window.” Caladin knew exactly what. Garlic.
“Is she still doing that?” Caladin asked. “I looked it up. Garlic does nothing to scare away shadow stalkers.”
Miss Miller shrugged. “Tell her that.”
“Maybe I will,” Caladin said. He aimed towards the hut with a braid of garlic hanging in the window and walked off on his own. Several other camp followers he recognized waved at him on the way. It really seemed like everyone who had survived the slaughter had ended up here. In addition to the braids in Kelly’s window, Caladin found her hut had long braids of garlic hanging in the doorway instead of a proper door. Her garden was full of only one type of plant. Caladin didn’t need to know anything about botany to figure what it must be. The place positively reeked of garlic. “Kelly!” Caladin called out. “You here? It’s Caladin, Tony’s son.”
A woman with a tangle of red hair poked her head out of the doorway. She looked left, then right, then grabbed Caladin by the shirtsleeve and pulled him inside. “Uh, hi,” Caladin said.
Kelly grabbed Caladin by the chin and turned his face left, then right. “Hmm,” she said. “You look older.”
“Hello to you too,” Caladin said.
“Yes, yes,” Kelly said, waving him off. “I missed you, you missed me. We’re happy to have you back. Blah, blah. What do you need?”
Same abrasive Kelly as ever. It was hard for Caladin to imagine the woman resolving anything. “I was just saying hi,” Caladin said. “Janet said you’re the closest thing to a leader we have. I thought you could catch me up on everything that happened.”
“In charge?” Kelly repeated. She scoffed. “No. I’m not in charge. I just yelled at a few of the guys until they stopped bickering. They were arguing about who would be next to who when the real problem was survival. We have to be prepared for the next attack.”
“I agree completely.”
“Good,” Kelly said. She pressed a handful of garlic into Caladin’s hands. “Help me braid garlic.”
“Uh, I… kind of have better things to do right now,” Caladin said.
“If you have time to talk, you have time to braid garlic,” Kelly insisted. It seemed Kelly’s superstition about garlic had only heightened since he’d last seen her. She used to place braids around the perimeter of their campsite every time they moved. She was convinced it was the only reason they’d never been attacked by shadow stalkers in the night. Caladin now knew that shadow stalkers weren’t native to these forests. They preferred rainforests. He knew there was no point in explaining that to Kelly, so he braided garlic. His fingers remembered the motions all too well, even after so long.
“So,” Caladin began. “How have things been?”
“Fine,” Kelly said. “There hasn’t been enough garlic to create a secure perimeter, but I’ve been doing my best. We’re lucky we’ve gone this long without an attack.”
“Kelly, we’ve never been attacked by shadow stalkers,” Caladin told her.
“Well, duh, thanks to me,” Kelly replied easily.
She was impossible. Caladin rolled his eyes as far back inside his head as he could… and kept braiding garlic. “Fine, whatever,” he said. “But I was more interested in the rest of the village. Everyone else. How have things been?”
“I told you,” Kelly said. “Fine.”
Caladin blinked. “I, uh, was hoping for more details than that.”
Kelly sighed as though she were being put upon. “That King Haedril guy sends down healers anytime someone gets sick. It’s been useful. But I’m kind of out of a job now.”
Caladin wasn’t convinced Kelly’s herbal remedies had ever actually done anyone any good. She tried to treat practically every ailment with garlic. It was good to hear that people were actually getting treated properly. “Anything else I should know?” Caladin asked her.
Kelly shrugged. “Nobody tells us what to do. Nobody whips us. The king is nice. Everyone has their own garden, even if they refuse to help grow any garlic with it.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re growing enough garlic for the entire village,” Caladin said.
“Yeah,” Kelly said. “Because I have to!”
“Okay, well, if that’s your biggest problem, I guess things are going well.”
“There were five,” Kelly said out of nowhere, head down, focused on her work.
“What?” Caladin asked.
“There were five people we never found bodies for,” Kelly said. “You were one of them.”
“Oh,” Caladin said. “Yeah. Do you know who they all were?”
“You, Tony, Glen, Grant and my brother,” Kelly listed off. “If you came back, then there’s a chance some of the others might too.”
Caladin frowned. He knew exactly what had happened to Glen. His body had exploded right in front of him. “I… don’t think they’re all going to come back,” Caladin told her.
Kelly looked down at the floor. “Yeah… you’re probably right… it was probably too much to hope for,” she said in a quiet voice.
“Well… Lenny… he’s…” Caladin wasn’t sure how to explain to Kelly that her brother was undead now.
“He’s what?” Kelly asked.
“Uh, maybe you should just talk to him yourself,” Caladin said.
Kelly shot up out of her seat. “He’s alive?” she shouted.
“I didn’t say that,” Caladin corrected her. “But I just realized I may have left without him. I may need to go back and get him.”
“You left without him?” Kelly demanded in a thunderous voice. She shoved Caladin out the door of her hut, still holding half a braid of garlic. “Go!” she said. “Go get him. Don’t come back till you have him!”
“Uh, okay,” Caladin said. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. Bring my brother back!”
Caladin was shooed out of Kelly’s yard and back down the dirt path he’d taken. Janet and Miss Miller gave him curious looks as he went past. Little Maddie was asleep in her mother’s arms. “Something the matter?” Janet asked.
“I forgot something important,” Caladin said. “I’ll be back in a minute.” Lenny was probably still waiting around in the woods with that trapped teleportation circle, wondering what happened to him. He should have realized sooner.
Caladin took the path back to the castle gate. The guards all let him through without a challenge. He went all the way back through the courtyard and into the throne room. King Haedril was talking to a soldier in a suit of armor with his helmet under one arm and bright orange hair that was slicked back with sweat. The eldrin soldier gave his king a sharp salute before stepping away when he saw Caladin enter.
“Welcome back,” King Philipus greeted Caladin. “Did your tour go well?”
“It was fine,” Caladin said. “Everyone seems happy. But I left some things at that tower I attacked. I need to get them. And to do that, I need mana. Where is your mana well?”
“Some things?” King Philipus repeated. “What things? That tower has been inaccessible since the attack.”
“A person,” Caladin said. “And I’m sorry about your circle. I’m the one who disabled it. I know how to bypass the security measure. But I need a lot of mana.”
“By all means,” King Philipus said. “My mana well is your mana well. I will show you how to access it. The actual well is underground. Directly beneath my throne, in fact.” Philipus walked over to his throne and touched something on the back. There was a click, then the ground started to rumble. Stone steps appeared behind the throne, leading deeper underground. “There are tunnels inside the castle, but this is the quickest way to the well. Sitting upon the throne will also grant access to the mana.”
“Good to know,” Caladin said. He walked around to the stone steps and followed them down. He could see the glow of the mana before he turned the last corner. The well was incredible; even stronger than Brorn’s had been. Caladin topped off his mana without even having to stand over it.
“It is one of the strongest mana wells on the continent,” King Philipus’s voice echoed into the enclosed space. Caladin turned around to see that the eldrin king had followed him down. No guards had followed. He was either extremely stupid or extremely trusting. Caladin couldn’t decide which. “My brother established this fortress to take advantage of the potent mana well here. He got permission from Queen Rusalia after a lengthy negotiation process on the condition that he cut down no trees and act as a bulwark to the aggressive orcs to the South. After Fayse’s betrayal, I fled here with all the loyalists I could muster. We have since branched out to a number of mana wells in the area.”
“I noticed,” Caladin said darkly.
King Philipus frowned. “Yes, I know. My men were not expecting resistance. They were attacked by a pyromancer and made rather poor choices. I am sorry for the grief it caused you.”
“That pyromancer was my father,” Caladin said. He looked down at the stone tiles, unable to meet the king’s eyes. There was a darkness inside himself he couldn’t deny. Belorian’s crown had merely brought it to the surface. He didn’t like the way it made him feel.
“I am—”
“Sorry,” Caladin interrupted the king. “Yeah, I know.”
The eldrin king placed a hand on Caladin’s shoulder. He hadn’t been looking up, so he didn’t see it coming. Before he realized what was happening, he was being pulled into an embrace. It was too much. He couldn’t hold back his emotions anymore. The tears poured out of him. Caladin felt like such an idiot. A weak, stupid fool that somehow always managed to create two new problems for every one he solved. He missed Brorn. He missed his father. The eldrin king just held him and let him cry until the feelings passed.
“I’m s-sorry,” Caladin apologized after he was done. He had stained the King’s fine silk shirt with his tears.
“It’s quite alright,” King Philipus said. “I understand. When this war began, I lost my son. I know how you feel. Perhaps not exactly the same, but close enough. Back then, I was only a general. I couldn’t abide what Fayse had done. I refused to take orders from my brother’s murderer, just because she happened to have spread her legs for him. She was prepared. She already had my son as a hostage. It was a choice no father should have to make, but I had to put aside my own feelings for the sake of my people. I didn’t actually believe she would execute him. I was wrong. That is the kind of woman she is.”
“You made the wrong choice,” Caladin said.
“Perhaps,” King Philipus said. “But I am committed now. If I do not keep the fight going, then he, and the rest of those who died, will have died for nothing.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Caladin asked. “I killed your men. A lot of them. I tried to kill you, too.”
“Because I understand your choices,” King Philipus said. “You were acting on imperfect information. If our roles were reversed… well, I probably wouldn’t have attempted to assault a fortress by myself, but then I am no archmage. And you killed many more of Fayse’s soldiers, if my reports are to be believed. An entire cohort. The point is, I know you are not a bad person. You just made a mistake. I also made a mistake. Queen Fayse is a bad person. A very bad person.”
“I know,” Caladin said. “We humans know better than most. Our camp is almost entirely composed of ex-slaves of hers. I was too young to remember, but I’ve heard the stories.”
“I have heard the stories as well,” King Philipus said. “That is why I thought we were natural allies. Still, it was hard to believe that the fledgling hedge-wizard your family was telling me about could be the same Archmage Caladin my soldiers were reporting on. I still do not know how a human—who by all appearances had barely begun to dabble in magic—could reach such levels of power.”
“I know,” Caladin said. “It’s hard to believe myself sometimes. But it all just comes so naturally.” As kind as this king seemed to be, he wasn’t willing to divulge the secret to how he cast his magic. If the man knew what a fraud Caladin was, he probably wouldn’t be nearly as kind. “I’m not sure why everyone says humans aren’t capable of using magic when it’s so obviously not true,” Caladin said.
“The reason is actually quite simple,” King Philipus said. “It is done out of fear.”
“Fear?”
“Yes,” King Philipus said. “After Belorian the Black was defeated, everyone was afraid of another dark lord rising up to replace him. He was a human, you know. He treated non-humans with complete disregard. Even rounding them up into camps and exterminating them.”
“I wasn’t aware of that,” Caladin admitted. He’d never actually seen any references to Belorian’s race in the few books he’d read that mentioned the man.
“His race has been stricken from all records. It was decided that humans would not be allowed to practice magic any longer. Making everyone believe they were not capable was part of the plan. I was there when it was decided by the survivors of the coalition that opposed Belorian. I was perhaps the sole dissenting voice.”
“What were they so afraid of?” Caladin demanded. “We have no affinity for magic. Humans who can actually learn spells are incredibly rare.”
“Lunamancy,” King Philipus said. “It was Belorian’s specialty. As I’m sure you have already discovered, the magic is quite unstoppable. Humans are significantly better at it than any other race. You could almost call it ‘human magic’.”
“It’s… scary,” Caladin said. “It brings out the worst in you. I only used it for a few minutes and was ready to drink blood and dismember people without a second thought.”
“It is the harmonic of malevolence,” King Philipus said. “The magic a wizard practices shapes them as they shape it in turn. Those who practice lunamancy are most prone to acts of violence. There has been a concerted effort to destroy all knowledge of the harmonic.”
“Normally, I would disagree with a practice like that on principle, but after seeing it myself, I think I understand,” Caladin said. “It’s scary stuff.”
“So you can really access any harmonic you want?” King Philipus asked. “I have heard the stories, of course, but I did not think it was possible. There has not been an archmage since before Belorian’s purges.”
Caladin nodded. “Any harmonic I want,” he confirmed. “But that was the first time I tried to use lunamancy. I’m not sure if I’ll be using that harmonic again anytime soon.”
“I understand,” King Philipus said. “Well, I’ll leave you to whatever you were doing. I’ve taken enough of your time already.”
“Ha!” Caladin said. “I would have never thought I’d hear the day that a king would tell me he didn’t want to take anymore of my time.”
King Philipus chuckled. “I am not such a busy king,” he said. “My subjects are nearly all soldiers and only number in the hundreds. If I were a nation, I would be a very small one.”
“So few?” Caladin asked. “How are you fighting a war against Fayse?”
King Philipus frowned. “Poorly,” he admitted. “We try to use hit-and-run tactics, but every time her forces discover the location of a mana well, they crush our defenses and take over. It is only a matter of time until she grows bold enough to assault this fortress. The Setsyan queen does not care what we do, as long as the orcs are kept from chopping down any trees. If I can be frank, we are losing the war.”
“No,” Caladin said. “I forbid it.”
“You… forbid it?”
“Yes,” Caladin said. “I forbid you to lose. This is the first safe place my family has ever had. Queen Fayse isn’t going to take it from me. I won’t let her.” He held out his hand and conjured a ball of fire of such intensity it scorched the hairs on his arm. He didn’t care. “The next time one of your forts comes under attack, tell me. I’ll show them what an archmage is really capable of.”
King Philipus’s lips turned up into a slow smile. By the light of Caladin’s fire, he almost looked menacing.
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