Chapter Two
Old Magics
There was not much left of the gatehouse. It was a pile of nothing, a large hole in the side of the mountain, overgrown with vines thicker than a wagon, covered in thorns the size of Cinero’s arm. He understood now, why it had been so hard for anyone to make it into the Keep since its destruction, and this was just the entryway. The unnatural growth extended to the entirety of the battlements, snaking through solid stone as if it wasn’t even there.
“Bleeding hells,” Rubicus said. “This is worse than I thought.” He walked up to the vines and carefully observed them, taking care to keep his distance. Caerella was pacing back and forth, looking for a path of entry that was most definitely not there.
“Agreed,” she whispered quietly. “I could, maybe, climb over.” She grabbed one of the thorns and gave it an experimental tug. “But a false move would probably prove… well, if not fatal, then more than a little painful.”
“Poisoned, do you think?” Rubicus drew his sword and poked the fleshy tendrils. A few dribbles of sap ran down the length of it, and he studied the thick liquid. Caerella nodded her head from side to side.
“Hard to say,” Flaveo mused. “It’s magical, so anything could happen.”
“Speaking of which,” Rubicus said, sheathing his sword. “Do you think it’ll work?”
“Of course it’ll work!” The quartermaster was downright offended. “Be my guest, if you have any doubts.” Caerella sighed and walked back a little, leaning against the cliffside wall. The pass Caledon Keep had been built in was high up, and a dangerous trek even on a sunny day, but the mountains on either side of it went up for another mile or more.
“Cinero,” Rubicus said, jutting his jaw forward, “the short sword, I think.”
“Are you sure?” Flaveo asked with a grin. “It’s getting a bit brittle, that one.”
“It’ll be fine. The short one.” He held out his hand and Cinero took off his pack. Other than some supplies, he also carried a small arsenal of weapons with him. They hadn’t wanted to risk riding a horse up the pass, and he was glad to take it off for a moment, even if he wasn’t going to actually say something.
Retrieving the small blackened sword, he drew it for a moment. Flaveo wasn’t wrong. The steel was getting to be fragile. He handed it to Rubicus, who nodded a thank you at him, and then positioned himself where the vines were at their thinnest. Without a word, Flaveo retrieved a small spherical phial with a golden liquid inside it, and held it up against the afternoon’s light.
“You got the right one?” Caerella asked. “I don’t want to have a repeat of last month.”
“Nobody got hurt, did they?” Flaveo snarked. “But yes, I do.” He tossed it at Rubicus, who snatched it out of the air. “Half should do.”
“Like last time? Not taking any chances, Veo,” Rubicus chuckled. He pulled the cork off with his teeth and drank the entire liquid in a single gulp. “How long?” he asked, maybe a bit too late, as he pulled the short sword free of its scabbard, and held it up, looking down its edge towards what had once probably been a portcullis.
“Ten, fifteen seconds, I think.” Flaveo pulled a piece of dried meat out of a pocket and chewed on it thoughtfully, but he was looking intently. “More than that and you’ll take your arm off.”
Rubicus counted under his breath while Caerella, Flaveo and Cinero moved aside a bit to stand behind him. Magic could be unpredictable at the best of times, and Rubicus had a tendency to take risks where he didn’t have to. Cinero had learned that much over the years.
“Ten,” Flaveo mumbled, “Nine. Eight.” He was staring directly at the large man in front of him, who took a deep breath and exhaled, pointing the sword forward and his entire body tensed up.
It wasn’t a sight Cinero had the chance to see very often. Magic was dangerous, something not usually seen outside of battle, and difficult to control. The kind of power it provided took its toll. The edges of Rubicus’ armor began to glow, crackling with a static power that made the air smell unnatural, strangely clean and sterile. The glow began to run down the cracks in Rubicus’ armor, following hard lines like weightless water, all beginning to converge on his outstretched arm.
“Four. Three. Two.” Cinero was following along with Flaveo’s breathless counting. As a group, they all trusted the man’s ability to cook up potent magic, but every time it was something of a gamble to take. It was wrestling control of the nature of the world itself. Even a desired outcome was liable to be explosive.
The old warrior, to his credit, seemed to hold his own quite well, although sweat started to pearl on his forehead. Cinero saw him tremble slightly with the energies running through him. The converging was going faster now, and the tip of the short sword was starting to glow softly.
“For the love of the Saints,” Flaveo muttered, “fire the damned thing.”
“Just another second,” Rubicus groaned, but his voice was strained. Then, with a roar Cinero wasn’t sure had come from Rubicus’ throat, the short sword burst with heat and light, and a stream of red-gold light burned straight ahead, crashing loudly and violently into the tangle of vines. They had to look away before the brightness did harm to their eyes. Even Rubicus had to shield his face. After a few seconds, the light began to die down.
“Brother of a bastard!!”
“I told you,” Flaveo said as Rubicus tossed the shattered remains of the sword aside, clutching his hand. “But you didn’t listen. Take that off.” Caerella rolled her eyes and went to look at the damage the magefire had done. There was a hole clean through the massive thicket, and its edges were still burning, where the material hadn’t outright melted or evaporated. The high whistling and fizzling of boiling sap slowly started to slowly die down. Cinero went over to look through it as well, following Caerella. Beyond the tangle of vines they could now properly see the central tower of Caledon Keep. It wasn’t a very encouraging sight. The vines ran up and through that, too. Although its spire was remarkably untouched, a decade of rough weather had still taken its toll on the structure.
“We’ll make it up there,” Caerella said quietly. “Don’t worry.” Cinero wasn’t sure she was talking to him, until she turned to look at him with that faintest of smiles playing around her lips, and pointed. “The vines are thinner going up,” she added. “We’ll be able to carve our way through.”
“Best get to work,” Cinero said. “Will take time.” Caerella nodded, and then looked at him for a moment again.
“Take breaks when you must, Cinero,” she said. “I’d rather have you tired and able than exhausted and extra weight.”
“Okay,” he said.
Caerella looked over her shoulder, where Flaveo was fussing over Rubicus. “I know you want to prove yourself, but you’re still just a boy. Barely a child anymore. You push beyond your capabilities and you will hurt yourself.” Cinero nodded, quietly. He didn’t like feeling like she was patronizing him, but she was still right. He didn’t want to let them down and he didn’t like complaining. “I know I’m hardly one to talk,” Caerella added, “but speak your mind.”
“Hey, Stoneface!” Flaveo shouted, beckoning Cinero over. “This is why I don’t trouble myself with using magic,” he said, gesturing at Rubicus, who was nursing his hand, still swearing under his breath. “The gauntlet took the brunt of it, you big baby,” Flaveo added. “It’s barely a sunburn.”
“Flaveo,” Rubicus said with barely maintained dignity, “If you keep this up I’ll give you barely a sunburn right across the jaw. You’d be hurting too if you were in my stead.”
“I wouldn’t be,” Flaveo said with a humourless smirk. “That’s my entire point. How’s the salve treating you?”
“It’s helping,” Rubicus grumbled. “Thanks.”
“Good. Now let’s get going. Or would you prefer we leave you here and send someone to pick you up? We can only carry one casualty at a time, I’m afraid.” Flaveo laughed as he narrowly dodged Rubicus’ gauntlet, which was mostly just scrap metal anyway. Cinero headed back to the entrance to the keep as he heard Rubicus chuckle and the two exchanged some more playful insults.
While he obviously didn’t like seeing the older man hurt, it was always nice to hear him and Flaveo banter. It made them feel a little like a family, and he didn’t doubt the two men saw each other as brothers. Caerella was a bit more distant, but she definitely fit in, somewhere. But he wasn’t quite sure where that left him. He wasn’t old enough to be “one of the brothers,” and he didn’t think he wanted to be, either. The connection, certainly, but the thought of being one of three roughhousing brothers was almost an affront to him.
So his alternative was solemn silence. He’d rather barely be present than be seen as one of the men he had taught himself not to resent for the comfort they’d found in themselves. Stoneface it would have to be, enjoying the connection others shared from a distance. It was going to have to be enough.
“Cinero,” Caerella said, “hatchets, yes?” He nodded and retrieved three from his pack, making it markedly lighter. There were still two more swords in there, but they weren’t nearly as heavy as they looked.
“You got this, Ruben?” Flaveo asked. The smile was still on his face, but the concern in his voice was real. He glanced at the large man’s hand.
“Aye,” Rubicus said, retrieving the larger battleaxe from his own pack. Adding that one to Cinero’s would have been overkill. They walked across the courtyard. Rain and wind had weathered away most of the devastation the fighting had wrought, painted on the inside of Caledon Keep. The gruesome tableau was left mostly to the imagination. A rusted sword half-buried in the few shreds of what had likely once been a gambeson. Clean-picked bones here and there, although most of those had probably been carried off by the few animals that made the high mountains their home. And there were the shades, of course.
Black silhouettes, burned into the ground and stonework. Grotesque shapes, monstrous in size and shape. Memories engraved into the foundations and Cinero’s own recollections. If he closed his eyes, he could hear their roars, like boulders crashing together. He could see their black eyes, reflecting the burning of homes. So he didn’t close his eyes, and looked straight ahead, not letting his imagination get the better of him. Besides, they had work to do.
The tower itself had once been barred with massive doors, which had been thrown off their hinges. By magic or by the force of infernal siege engines, Cinero couldn’t tell, they were rotten and blackened all the same. Inside, they could see partway up. It had been a beautiful building, once. Fit for a prince.
But the thick plant growth sprouted out of the ground here too, snaking up the spiraling staircase on the inner walls of the tower and barred any easy path upwards.
“How does magic do this?” Cinero wondered quietly to himself. He had only ever known the power to cause devastation.
“I expect we have the Cavean to thank for that,” Flaveo said, his hands on his hips again as if he was posing. “I don’t know of any man, woman or anything in between that can sustain that kind of power.”
“Old magics,” Caerella said. “I don’t like what it represents, but I can not deny its beauty.”
“I can,” Rubicus said, and buried his axe into the roots with a wet thwack.
You've got me hooked
I feel like Stoneface might be Stoneshell actually :p
I can not deny its beauty.”
“I can,” Rubicus said
I really like this Rubicus character.
Oh my, can't wait to see what they find