Book TWO: Retribution
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Chapter Three: Pesmega's Blade
The night passed quickly and without incident after Joel and Leon had visited the prophet. With that detour out the way, their goal had once more become Tylor; who was far north of their current position.
Though passing quickly, Joel and Leon had had little sleep overnight and only returned to the camp just a few hours before the sun would appear on the horizon. Now the bright ball sat high in the sky as early afternoon quickly approached. Joel was double checking their belongings that they had left at the camp while Leon explained to the tribe’s chieftain that they had completed their rituals and were ready to move on.
As a sign of completing the ritual, Leon was handed two well made necklaces, one for himself and one for Joel. Around the fine string were a number of small crystal like stones and beads with a few strangely shaped pieces that Leon assumed were animal teeth or claws shaved down. He gratefully placed his up and over his head before bidding the chieftain farewell and heading back to where Joel was preparing their things.
Rummaging through his backpack, Joel searched for a clean shirt to change into. Lifting his current shirt up over his head he tossed into onto a nearby log before letting out a long sigh and stretching. As he lowered his arms he jumped slightly as a small hand touched his back. Startled, he swung around to see two male Sarentian children staring at him.
“What are you two doing?” he asked. “…Do you understand me? No, I guess not… What…is…it?” Joel questioned slowly, trying to make them understand.
One of the boys pointed at his friend and got him to turn around. He then pointed at his friend’s back. Joel looked over his bare shoulder and realized what they had seen.
“That’s just a scar…a scar, understand?” he asked, pointing at the scared tissue on his lower back as best he could.
Their bemused faces suggested they didn't understand a thing he had said. Years ago, before his Destined powers were awakened, he had received a cut from a sword to his lower back which never fully healed and had left a large mark. It was easily visible on his tanned skin; the scarred area stayed a cream white.
Giving up attempting to explain, Joel tried to shoo the children away and returned to finding his shirt. One of the boys hopped around to face him and watched intently. Their strange fascination with him packing his bags was making him uneasy. He looked around to see what the other child was doing and almost cried out in shock. The other boy was leaning against the log he had rested his other shirt on and was busy undoing fabrics covering a sword sheath. Joel leapt up and grabbed it from the child. The boys face dropped as he began to cry, before he and his friend ran away.
“Scaring children now, Joel?” Leon asked, appearing at his side.
“They were bothering me,” he replied as he wrapped his sword sheath back up.
“After your display during our rituals on the pillars it is no surprise. They idolize you now. Everyone in the tribe watched you easily overcome their champion; they simply wanted to see you again. I did warn you.”
Joel huffed to himself and looked the wrapped sword over from top to bottom to ensure it was airtight. There were many small shards of blade held within the sword sheath and carelessly unwrapping it could run the risk of losing some of the smaller pieces of the dauraniam alloy. Joel believed that the more of Pesmega’s blade’s pieces that he was able to recover and keep together the better the chance of being able to forge the blade once more.
After finding the shirt he had been searching for and rearranging their belongings, Joel and Leon were ready to leave the Sarentian settlement.
As they were leaving, Leon remembered he had the necklace meant for his friend and presented it to him. He accepted it and placed it over his head and let it hang out over his shirt. Now that they had finished meeting with the prophet they had to decide which direction to head in. Leon took out the paper map and began tracing his finger over it.
“We were here…and Tylor was reported…here, near the Ectar settlement,” he said to himself quietly. “It is most likely he will head north for a while… putting this mining establishment… and this trader outpost in his path.”
Joel glanced at the map with his friend and studied the distances between Tylor’s last confirmed location and the closest inhabited areas next to it. Settlements of all sizes were appearing all over the Endless Desert, making maps out of date almost on a monthly basis, so their map could not be considered entirely accurate. The nearest on it was about three days walk, meaning Tylor would not have arrived there yet, but would do long before they could get there.
The second inhabited area was a built up trader outpost directly north and another three or four days walk through harsh desert, if he took the direct route. The main roads for traders and convoys twisted around in a half circle a few kilometers south before the outpost to attach to Sasara, the capital city of Sarento, before then heading north again.
“We should make our way to where we were before going to the settlement, then?” Joel asked.
“Yes, from there we can check in the Guild outpost and see if Tylor has been spotted anywhere else,” Leon replied.
********
Despite the heat of high noon, the companions pushed onwards and eventually found their way back to the settlement where Joel had had his journals stolen by the mysterious attacker.
Nothing had changed around the settlement in their time away. It was early evening and the bars were now open. This particular settlement was within a mile of a rock formation where a coal mine was created and much of the town was populated by mine workers and their families. During the day the miners would commute to the caves and then at evening return and cool off at one of the three or four drinking establishments. It came as no surprise to the two when they first arrived that there was so many bars, it was the type of place that would make a lot of money in an area such as that. There were very few children and no Atraians besides them.
They had not seen many of their fellow foreign Races (Man, Lis and Dau) for quite some time. Siran were quite common in Sarento because it was their native kingdom though. The Siran in Atra had moved there but had original came from the Endless Desert and this was confirmed by most still having the same red iris that each Sarentian had. Leon pointed out, however, that Siran who chose to have children while living in Atra were often shocked to find that their children would not necessarily have the same color of iris.
It was never accurately recorded just how many people escaped Atra in time before it was conquered by Kain, but the original estimates suggested a few million. It nearly crippled Sarento at first as all the Atraians had no homes, food or water and desperately needed aid. In the end the King of Sarento had no choice but to create encampments for the Atraians.
Those who could find work were allowed to move on to whichever settlement demanded it, but there were still hundreds, maybe even thousands, stuck in camps eating nothing but rations and drinking dirty water. There was no one to blame, it was all they could do. This did, however, create prejudice towards Atraians and vice versa with the Sarentians. There would be arguments, bickering and many fights. It led to Atraians being banned from some bars or buildings and denied homes in some areas. Those from Atra had no choice but to accept the rules and laws placed against them as they were the refugees, the ones without a home. The guests had to obey the host.
This fact made Joel’s blood boil; to see the same people in constant torment as they had suffered when Atra fell so many years before. There was a rumor of one safe haven however. A small settlement, neither of them knew where it was, where only Atraians were allowed. The rumors of such a place had created more uproar of course, but as of yet nothing had been done about it.
“The bar here allows us to be served,” Leon noted while nodding in the direction of a stone building adjacent to them. “Wait here for me while I go try to find out some more information about Tylor.”
“Why don’t I just come with you?” Joel questioned.
“I am going to go see a Guild mercenary I met while you were recovering from your attack. He does not trust Atraians so easily and I don't wish to upset him by bringing a stranger along with me.”
With that, Leon bid him farewell and walked off down the street and disappeared off around a pale orange building. Joel watched him go then looked up at the darkening sky with an irritated expression.
“…So why does he trust you?” he asked out loud to himself.
The bar was busy with miners drinking contently in their separate groups. Most, of course, were Sarentians but to his surprise there was also a small group of Atraians in one corner which was a welcomed change. They were the first he had personally seen for a while and also seemed to be miners judging by their pitch black clothes. Joel was impressed they had been employed, it had to have taken a lot of negotiations.
A two chaired small wooden table along the left wall seemed like an ideal place to wait for his companion to return. After taking the seat, which faced out back down the length of the bar to the entrance, Joel leant back on the chair and raised his legs onto the table before sighing deeply again.
He was tired; the trek back and forth down the desert to the mountain range had been quite draining, even for him. It had not helped that they had pushed all during the day to make the town before nightfall, meaning they traveled during the peak hours of midday when the heat was almost unbearable. The skin on his back and neck felt cracked and burnt and sore to the touch. Sighing again, as he felt along the other side of his back, Joel casually ran his eyes over the bar and as his gaze passed the entrance to bar he saw something which made him stop and stare.
There in the door was a figure he recognized. The light of the bar lamps made him clearer this time. It was the man who had watched them as they entered the prophet’s cave and had been following them for quite some time. His attire was different and very strange in make. Other times he had been close enough to see his clothes they had always been normal, at least in comparison to what he now wore.
It was a strange silk, or some other soft fabric that covered all of his body aside from his hands and head. He had a long face with a tight brow and short brown hair and had small eyes which seemed to be fixed on him. The silk was mixed in shades of black and white, each having its own half. The man seemed to nod at Joel, acknowledging the returned stare, before disappearing off to the right of the entrance. Joel quickly flipped backwards over the chair into a standing stance before grabbing his back pack and satchel and running out the bar after the man.
Joel found him in the alley between the bar and the adjacent building standing at the far end spinning some sort of sphere in his hand. He tossed it up and down gently as he reached him and made no attempt to get away.
“The stalker shows himself! It's an Atraian no less,” Joel said slyly. “What business do you have with us?”
“Forgive me for my cloak and dagger antics, but it was necessary. My name is Xavier and I have urgent news for you.”
The man spoke his words as calmly as a poet and was polite in speaking style. Joel could not place his accent within Atra and although he definitely looked like an Atraian, he did not speak the same as people of Samilo, Tentra or any of the others places he had visited while in the kingdom.
“...And what news is this?”
“Before I give you this news, I wish you to under take a task for me. This is normal, yes? That is what you do as a mercenary for the Guild, is it not?” Xavier asked rhetorically. “A task for payment. Do you accept the task?”
For a moment Joel did not answer, instead he scoped the person facing him from top to bottom and reiterated his words over in his mind. Though polite, this Xavier still seemed quite demanding and forceful in his words which rung with an almost arrogant like undertone. He did have a point however; as a mercenary he did accept paying jobs as it was the only way he and Leon could fund their travels (plus slaying the odd beast on a risky venture helped fine tune their skills).
“That depends… What's the job and what's the pay?”
“The payment is my news,” he replied.
“I don’t need news.”
“Oh, but I think you will want this news. It is in regards to…well, I must not give it away now, must I? Else I could not get you to do the task. I can say this much; I will tell you that which you want to know and show you pictures of the past kept secret from you by your...deity.”
Xavier seemed to stare with intensity as he watched Joel’s reaction. The Destined could only assume that the deity of which he spoke was Seka, the real Seka, the one whom created the original Destined. But how could such a strange man know something about her? He couldn't be another of the Destined, Xavier’s Aura was weak and pale, yet there was still something odd about it.
As Joel thought to himself, Xavier began to pace from left to right with his hands placed behind his back, waiting either impatiently or contently, it could have been either. Joel was not sure why but the pacing back and forth began to irritate him, as if it was interrupting his thoughts and abruptly told him to stand still and to speak of the task. Xavier complied and began to explain the job.
He wished Joel to travel far to the southwest to a mountain city known as Utada. A blacksmith’s daughter had gone missing near a large mansion overlooking the city. No one was allowed entrance to the mansion and it was thought by the people living in its wake that demons dwelled there with the owner; a Sarentian by the name of Monter. The blacksmith dared not go to the mansion alone but missed his daughter dearly and hoped that someone would go in search of her. He had appealed to Guild members stationed in the city, but as of yet no one had been brave enough to accept the job.
“What’s the pay from the blacksmith?” Joel asked, now showing more interest.
“He is but a humble blacksmith and cannot afford to spare any coin. He simply appeals to those with a kind heart to help find his only daughter.”
He wants me to travel even farther south into the mountains than Leon and I have just returned from and for no money at all? He must think his news would make up for that, but I don’t have the time for this guy’s game! I don't sense malice in him or a darkness of any kind but he's is holding things back… Just who is he?
“If I have not enticed your interest enough yet then you may also find it interesting to know that this blacksmith has a partner with which they run their humble business…an old Dau from Atra,” Xavier stated with a smile.
That was the final straw for Joel; he moved faster than Xavier could track and appeared in front of him with one hand clasped around his throat. Joel pushed him up against the nearest building's wall with ease and demanded to know how Xavier knew the things he seemed to know, not attempting to hide his temper or power.
“You… are quick…to anger…” Xavier choked.
The grip around his neck loosened slightly as Joel reiterated his question once more. How could this stranger know about his interest in a Dau weapon crafter? How could he possibly know that he wished Pesmega’s blade to be reformed? He rarely spoke of it to Leon let alone publicly or anywhere that Xavier may have overheard had he been stalking them for some time. Slowly, Joel released his grip completely and apologized to Xavier before walking back towards the bar.
“I have other more pressing matters, you'll need to find someone else,” he called back.
“Do you not wish Pesmega to be restored? I am sure the Dau will do this in return for finding his business partner’s daughter. Negate your suspicions towards me, they are unfounded. I simply wish to help my friend and his daughter and in return you will have your special blade restored and get information about what happened fifteen years ago when Tentra fell and your friend lost to darkness!”
“…How?! How do you know these things?!” Joel cried out, twisting back around to face him.
“I have watched this war progress from rival deities bickering over their dead master's ruined spire to the form it now takes. I know what you are and the fate which spreads out before you, but that is a path which leads to death. I offer you another path, one which will get you what you want. There is one more condition I must ask of you. I ask that you do this alone. This is your test and only you may do this and then you will receive your rewards.”
“You ask too much, Xavier,” Joel said, shortening the distance between them. “Leon warned me…he said we would become separated, it’s what the prophet we met in the south said. That means she was right! Does that mean she was right about everything…? No! I will not believe this…I can't let what she predicted become true! I will not be separated from Leon!”
“Really? Where is he now?” Xavier replied.
Looking around, he sighed long and hard and shrugged gently. Leon had not wanted him to go with him, perhaps with good reason, but it was odd he asked him to stay behind in the bar. Was it really because the person he was going to meet did not like Atraians or was it just that he could not bare another second with him?
Things had become different between them; they had become more distant and argumentative over certain things. They had spent so many years traveling together that perhaps it was time to do something alone. It was then that he imagined the path he and Leon were on; mindlessly following Tylor with no idea how to save him. Then there was the path Xavier offered which would restore Pesmega’s blade and get him information about what exactly happened to Tylor and all this would cost was some time apart. It was beginning to sound tempting.
“...Alright, I'll do the job,” Joel said at last. “But listen to me, Xavier. If you are tricking me or trying to manipulate me in any way...I will kill you. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. Thank you for accepting, my friend will be most grateful. I pray you can find his daughter alive and well. Now, come, I have arranged a speedier transport to get us there. You should not be parted from your friend for more than a day or two at most,” Xavier explained.
“Speedier transport?”
“We will travel by roc,” he replied.
********
Leon entered the bar and surveyed it from left to right, but there did not seem to be any sign of Joel. After traveling the short distance from the open hallow entrance to the wooden square bar he called the bartender over and inquired if Joel had been in. The bartender explained that someone matching his description had been in but left in a hurry for whatever reason. He also mentioned that some raised voices had been heard from the alley between the bar and the next building along. Leon thanked the Sarentian for the information then left the bar and ventured down the ally.
Two sets of footprints had passed over the sand in the ally recently. One pair was boots, thick and heavy; those were most likely Joel’s footprints. They seemed to travel up the ally then turn back before heading back up again and up next to one of the walls. There seemed to be signs of some kind of struggle there as well. The other set of footprints were smoother and less detailed, as if the second person had worn sandals or some other form of flat footwear. They seemed to move back and forth covering each other and then were dragged towards the wall where Joel had moved.
Pulling himself up from his kneeling position next to the wall, Leon closed his eyes and breathed slowly. He could not feel his friend’s presence anywhere in the close proximity. Of course Joel was most likely concealing his Aura as they always had done, so it would have been next to impossible anyway but if there had been some form of fight he may have used his power. Leon’s visit to the mercenary had not taken more than an hour, yet Joel seemed far away.
It was then that Leon noticed something stuck in the sand on the opposite end of the ally from which he entered. It was a small scroll placed upright and nearly completely buried in the sand. He had been so fixated on the footprints that he had not noticed it prior to now. It was penned in hurriedly scrawled ink and written in Atraian. He recognized the writing as Joel's.
Leon,
The man who followed us to the prophet has made himself known to me. He is a man named Xavier. I've agreed to go with him to help a friend in need to the southwest and in return will have Pesmega’s blade restored by a Dau that lives there. I don't know how he knows the things he does, but he knew everything about us and promised me that if I did this then he would show me what happened to Tylor.
The conditions given to me for this includes that I go alone. Wait in the town for me to return, maybe get some Guild jobs done in the meantime. I shouldn't be gone for more than a day or two. Besides...we need some time apart, don't we?
“…Joel, you fool,” Leon cursed out loud.
********
The roc squawked loudly above head as it hauled its two passengers below it. A roc was a mighty bird with a wing span larger then four meters on each side, giving it tremendous power. It was black in color with an amber colored beak. They were tame birds and used as a quicker and much more comfortable method of transport between the larger populated areas of Sarento. They were less common in the smaller settlements and towns, where other land bearing mammals were used.
The beast masters in control of the great birds attached rectangular shaped baskets using straps around the roc’s body which would carry around five occupants high in the sky. The beast master was sat atop the huge animal and was out of sight but he could occasional be heard as he barked gruff commands at the bird.
This was the first time Joel had experienced such a form of travel, rocs were often expensive to purchase passage on and he and Leon could never afford the price. The feeling of the blustery wind striking upon his face at such a high altitude was very relaxing and uplifting. Far below, the Endless Desert seemed like a carpet of yellows and browns with little detail able to be picked out.
While Joel contently admired the glorious view, Xavier stood in silence looking straight ahead with his arms behind his back, displaying remarkable balance considering all the turbulence. They had not spoken much since lifting off and the strange man seemed unwilling to divulge much about himself. He spoke about the job as if it was some kind of test, but what exactly was being tested escaped Joel’s knowledge.
If the man knew about the Destined then it was likely that he was aware of the strength they possessed. Or perhaps the test was to prove to someone else that they were capable, someone who doubted them. Either way, the man was proposing a sharing of knowledge and information, details which Joel desperately wanted to know. Since Seka was now in hiding and could not communicate with them, he had to accept help from somewhere else.
“So, this job,” Joel mused, “who is it that I am proving myself to and why?”
“Doubt is a dubious thing,” Xavier replied. “We do not hand out our knowledge unless it is absolutely necessary and even then it is only to those who will do what is best with it. There are those who would doubt giving Destined answers, the answers to their current questions and to the questions they have yet to think of. Ah, but things have gone too far. We have let things go out of control. The darkness has taken too much and must be pushed back to whence it came. Yet despite that, despite this incredible threat, there are still those who must see that you are capable of the things that I believe you are.”
“Who are the we you're speaking about?”
Xavier’s small sly smile appeared. Joel had noticed it once before in the alley just a few hours before. Despite appearances, he wondered if it was just a nervous reaction.
“I cannot tell you that, until you have passed the test and found my friend's daughter at least,” he said and then paused, seemingly to suddenly remembering something. “Oh! Please take these…”
From the inside of his strange robes appeared two small scrolls. Xavier handed both to Joel and pointed at each in turn. The first, he explained, was the confirmation of accepting the job from the Guild to save Joel time by having to find the city outpost and also included a personal message from himself to the owner of the blacksmiths. The second was a ticket for a prepaid trip back to the mining settlement they had met in from the southern city of Utada by roc. Joel opened both to confirm the man’s words, but found them both to be scrolled in Sarentian writing. The writing was nothing but squiggles and lines to him but he nodded to approve, pretending to have read them.
“So this child went missing in a mansion that's supposed to be full of creatures? I don't buy that. How can such a place be left to its own devices?” Joel asked.
“Now that is something which you will need to ask the people of Utada when we arrive, for I do not know. If I was to guess, I would say it is the lack of Sarentian soldiers. The knights, maybe even the whole garrison, have been called to war and the mercenaries stationed there by the Guild are easily bought.”
It was sad but true. Everyone had their price, even peace keepers hired to guard towns without sufficient garrisons. They turned a blind eye to anything as long as their pouches were lined with coin. Nothing could be done about it even if they wanted to; the war in Vail required all the troops Sarento could muster, plus now that Atra fell they had yet another boarder to guard from impending invasion.
Joel pushed for more information, “Hey...You look like me, but I feel that you're not a normal Man...especially since you claim to have watched this war since it started.”
“Age does not take a toll on me to the degree it would a normal Man or indeed one of your kind. I cannot say more about myself, please do not persist in asking me questions. You will have your answers when the time comes.”
A small smile graced Joel’s lips as he turned away. Xavier was a clever person and would not easily divulge anything he did not wish to say. Giving up for now, he returned to watching the sky. They would fly till early morning and by then Utada would be in clear view.
********
“Geredescal, semena!” a voice said. “Semena! Semena!”
Slowly, Joel opened one eye to see the roc’s beast master nudging his foot and saying something over and over that he did not understand. Rubbing the back of his head he slowly opened his other eye and examined his surroundings. He lay sprawled out in the basket which the giant bird had carried, but the bird was now no where to be seen and a bright sky was overhead. The straps which had been attached to the bird lay draped down the insides of the basket, covering Joel’s legs and boots. With a gasp he suddenly rose to his feet, almost tripping on the straps and knocking over the beast master in the process.
“Where is he? Where is Xavier?” he asked frantically, looking left to right.
The beast master did his best to understand what it was that Joel was asking and then tried his best to answer. He pointed left and then right and then dug a hand into his pocket as he seemed to remember something. From it he pulled a scrap of paper, which he handed to him.
My dear friend,
Do not disappoint me. Please complete your task and then I will return to you soon enough. Search for the address below, it is the blacksmith’s home that I spoke of. I wish you the best of luck.
Below the note was a street name and number; ‘Market Road’ followed by the number thirteen. The beast master pointed at the note from Xavier and began explaining, as best he could, something or other which Joel could not follow. As the beast master spoke, Joel quietly collected his things and hopped out of the basket, leaving the Sarentian in the middle of what sounded like quite an impressive rant.
They seemed to be at some form of stable, made from straw and stone and two stories high, for the roc. From within the walls of the nest he could here it contently squawking to itself, most likely glad to be free of its harness and heavy cargo. All around were mountain peaks, and a road running forwards and back from the stable. One seemed to lead back to the Endless Desert, the other into the city of Utada.
The city seemed to merge in with the stone cliffs; all the buildings were matching gray. It was buzzing with activity within; the sound of a community going about its day felt good on his ears. It had been so long since he was in such a busy and big place. Being so high up the air was clean as well; there was no dust or sand to choke on.
As he walked through the streets he noticed most of the people were miners; it must have been because of the number of caverns and rich coal or ore deposits within the mountain ranges. Considering that Utada was made within the mountains it must have been very rich in such supplies and the amount of consumers displaying merchandise confirmed this. They had probably come from all around to help rich miners spend their hard earn money.
There seemed to be no one bar Sarentians in the city and some seemed to stare as Joel strolled along the streets, searching for Market Road. A child pointed at him and asked what he was; his mother pulled the son along and apologized for being rude (at least that is how he interpreted what happened). Others would just stare, as if they had never seen an Atraian before.
Are these people so sheltered? Joel asked himself. Heh, reminds me of home…
After some searching, Joel discovered what appeared to be Market Road. There was no sign or indication, at least in writing he could understand, but it was filled from top to bottom with buildings and stalls covered in fabrics of many colors and rung with the sound of merchants chanting their offers at the top of their lungs. It was then that he noticed that all the buildings had small numbers painted on the sides of the door frames. Though Sarentian words were hard, Joel had mastered basic numbers in their language pretty easily (much to his delight). The one in front of him read as eight and across the street was number nine. Joel hurriedly scanned left and right walking down the busy street until he found the building marked thirteen.
The blacksmiths was three stories high and quite wide. It was made of gray stone and had a large canopy above the open front door. Two second floor windows made of wood hung open, letting the fresh cool breeze blow through the building. The top floor had a single wooden window, which was closed.
Around the entrance were a number of propped up signs and scrolls stuck to the wall. Joel could not read any of them but most seemed to be advertising special offers of some kind. Then there was one which caught his eye; it had a number written in large red writing which seemed like eighty-thousand. It was no big sale offer, it was something else. Slowly, he peeled it from the wall and grasped it in hand as he entered the blacksmiths.
“Hello?” he called to an empty room.
An oak desk cut off the opposite end of the front room that was covered in various pieces of paper and inks. Around the walls were a number of swords, shields and other weaponry with tags hanging from them all. A Sarentian stepped out from a back room and leant on the desk before Joel, pausing slightly as he noticed that he was not a Sarentian as well. He stood tall and bowed before returning to his leaning position.
“Coseralty, renamebe telo seta?” he said.
“…I’m sorry; I don’t speak your language. I was sent here by a man named Xavier. Do you know him? I am here to accept the job, to rescue your daughter, she…” he trailed off; the blank expression on the blacksmith had told him enough.
The owner called to the back room of the first floor to someone. A few moments later a short Dau male dressed in thick battered leather and an apron appeared holding a smiting tool in hand. The Sarentian placed his mouth near to the stout Dau’s ear and whispered something. Joel failed to see the point in whispering since he didn't understand a word anyway, but decided it best not to say anything.
“You speak Atraian? Well I’ll be…it’s been a while since I’ve seen one of you. Welcome, sir, to the finest blacksmiths in the whole of the great city of Utada. How may I help you today?” the Dau asked cheerfully.
“I am here about the job. Xavier sent me,” Joel replied.
“…Who is that?”
While trying hard to hide his anger, Joel crushed the paper scroll in his hand and cursed to himself. Had he been set up after all? Was this some ruse to separate him from Leon? Xavier had sounded so sincere about everything or had he just gone soft and missed something? Suddenly remembering the letter of introduction Xavier had written for him, Joel reached into his pack and handed it over to the Dau.
“My!” he exclaimed. “That’s a Dau crafted weapon if I’ve ever seen one and a finely made bow it is with…what is this? These are the runes of demon warding! Amazing!”
Looking around, Joel found that his trusty bow, Samilo, had slipped from his shoulder as he leant for his back pack. Reluctantly, he handed it over for the blacksmith to look at, along with the note from Xavier. The Dau passed it to his Sarentian friend for a moment and both exclaimed what sounded like amazed cries. While the Sarentian studied the bow, the Dau read the note.
“What is this? You…you’re willing to rescue Leena?” the Dau asked, before passing the note to his friend once more. “Please, please come to the back of the store so we can talk about this…”
Through the back of the front room was a small and smoky kitchen. The blacksmiths sat around a large wooden table and beckoned Joel to join them. They talked between each other before acknowledging him again and left him to drop his packs onto the floor and admire the room. After a few minutes of them reading the note over and over, Joel grew impatient and asked for their attention.
“So then, tell me all that you can about your daughter and I will go find her.”
“It’s…it is not as easy as that, please understand…we have given up hope, we do not want to send anyone else to their death. Two people came, from the Guild. Both never returned from that damned Monter’s forsaken mansion. My friend here, Pento, has given up hope of his daughter still being alive. We appreciate your offer friend, but we cannot do anything more...our conscience cannot withstand another lost life.”
Joel stood up, collected his things and walked towards the exit to the kitchen.
He looked over his shoulder, “I will return with your daughter shortly.”
The Dau chased after him as he calmly exited the room.
“You fool! You’ll be killed! You can’t!” he cried.
Joel did not stop.
“….There’s no money…” the Dau said, halting Joel’s retreat. “I saw you holding the poster… it’s a lie…we don’t have that kind of money. We can’t afford anything, we are just poor blacksmiths… Pento's wife died in the mines years ago and he had to raise poor Leena alone, but now she is gone as well and he has no will to work. We cannot hope to ever make that kind of money so we cannot even owe you it…so don’t go, don’t throw your life away.”
“I don't want your money,” Joel said, still with his back to the Dau, “I do have one favor to ask of you though. Here…”
He tossed his back pack onto the desk.
“Mind my things for me. If you check that long thing wrapped in fabric I left by the door you’ll find the remains of a Dau sword given to a friend of mine fifteen years ago. I’d like it repaired.”
With that the man was gone. Silently, the blacksmith collected the sword and began to gently unwind the coverings. Eventually a brilliant red sheath was uncovered and a gold hilt loosely hung stuck in the top of it which swayed as he held the sheath aloft.
The blade had been broken, about six inches up the center. Collected in the base of the sheath were small shards of the broken section of the blade followed by the tip, which was intact for about seven inches down. The blade was almost invisible in the center but white edges made it stand out. The blade had been made of solid dauraniam in the purest possible form.
This had been a mighty weapon in its time and it must have taken a giant to be able to crush such a high quality of ore. It must have been worth a fortune too and yet the stranger had given it to him in good faith. Another metal could be substituted for the missing dauraniam shards and it would not affect the blades performance. A forging of a blade such as that would take time and skill, skills that most other blacksmiths would not possess. Only Dau could craft dauraniam to perfection, especially this purity.
Pento returned from the kitchen and looked at the broken remains of the sword on the desk. Turning to his dear friend, he asked the whereabouts of the stranger.
“<He is going to Monter’s mansion, to search for Leena…even though he knew we can’t pay…all he asked, was for this blade to be restored…>”
********
The mansion lay atop a cliff overlooking the deepest part of the city. Its huge shadow cast a permanent darkness on all things caught in its wake; it had a deeply sinister feel about it, even as nothing more as an image on the horizon. Joel walked slowly through the streets glancing upwards at the mansion as it grew closer and closer. Soon he was in its shadow, looking upwards at the cliff upon which it sat. The cliff edge ran a few meters from its outer wall overlooking the city which became thin in width, but where the mansion sat was thick rock, as if a mountain had been squashed and it placed upon it.
A path circled up and around from the city’s southern exit leading straight to the mansion, which was fenced off by a tall metal fence with a spiked top. There was no gate; the fence circled all the way around the perimeter without an opening. Joel calmly slashed his palm sideways causing a mighty pulse of invisible energy to upturn four sections of the fence, throwing them a few meters across the courtyard towards the mansion.
...How could a lone little girl wander into such a place if the fence has no gate? This is very strange. I don't feel any Aura from within at all. Damn it, this feels like a setup. Xavier will pay if he's the one behind all this!
The mansion was long in length and three stories in height with an aging brown tile roof sheltering it. Grayed marble pillars supported the upper floor and the top if the doors. The doors were reinforced thick wood with a thin metal barrier in front of it. Windows running around the edges were protected by similar metal guards. This was not an easy place to get into. Or out of. Joel’s suspicions were raised further. Was this Leena girl really here? Could she have somehow found a way in? Was Monter even real and why did the people of the city fear him?
“Well… no going back now I suppose.”
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