“Okay.” Gadius smiled grimly at the golem. “Again, identify yourself, golem!”
“I am not a golem,” the metal man said.
“Who are you then?” Barabus yelled.
“I am Ruiden.”
The two knights blinked and stared at each other. Sorel then turned back to face Ruiden. “You mean like Talarius’s sword?”
“Not like. Am. I am Ruiden, Sword of Talarius. You have failed to retrieve him. I shall succeed.”
Gastropé sat down on the bed in the small chamber he had been assigned to at Fierd’s Rest. It was similar in size to his room at school, so while cramped, was comfortable. Fierd’s Rest was a surprisingly robust keep dating back about six hundred years. It was fairly utilitarian, and military in nature. The most striking aspect of the fortress was that it was situated at the base of a giant mountain; one with, from what he could see in the dark, an unscalable cliff face. That cliff face seemed to be the back wall of the keep.
He had not been able to see much in the dark. They had arrived in what he would have called a sylvan glade in the middle of dense trees. The glade had been lit both by the light from the runic gateway and the palace dungeon behind it, as well as the brightly lit torch stands around the glade. Not unexpectedly, based on what Trevin had said earlier, this end of the gateway was manned by short elves. He guessed they must be forest alfar; they were all between four and five feet tall and generally had brown hair with various colored streaks. Gastropé was not sure he’d ever seen any forial alfar, as they were called before. He had seen and even briefly met a few rialto alfar, the so called “royal elves,” all of whom were at least six feet tall and incredibly thin.
From a distance, he had seen a few races of Dok Alvar in Exador’s army. He had no idea what the various races were, though. He had also had no desire to make their acquaintance. He was not xenophobic; it was simply that some races were better left alone. In hindsight, if he had continued working with Exador’s army, he probably would have had to deal with some of those more “evil” races.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, he had switched sides and was now aligned with three demons from the Abyss. Gastropé shook his head; his career trajectory was not moving in a positive direction. He had started out working for an “evil” overlord, who apparently was actually an archdemon allied with a previously dead Anilord; also an archdemon. He was now keeping secrets for the most-wanted demon lord on the planet, the demon lord’s son, and a loud-mouthed octopodal demon, while working for room and board for an egomaniacal wizard who had slaughtered the entire army he had just deserted in a single blast. To top it all off, he was now tracking down what was probably a goddess who may or may not have gone rogue.
Gastropé sat down on his cot and put his head in his hands. This was not where he saw his life going at the beginning of the year. After graduation, he had thought he would settle down to a nice job in a city, earn a good living, hopefully meet a nice girl and get married. Instead, he was mired in tuition debt to the school and had had to take the only job he could find so he could make his first loan payment, and that job was with Exador. He had known full well the reason Exador was always hiring wizards; he went through them very quickly.
Sure, he had lived through Exador, unlike most of the wizards that had started with him. Gastropé figured that should, in fairness, be counted as a plus. If only he could have done that and avoided being at the epicenter of an upcoming war between demons and gods! He was literally “trapped between Heaven and the Abyss.” Everyone knew what happened to mortals who meddled with demons and gods. They had an even worse record than Exador’s wizards did!
“Could things get worse?” Gastropé muttered to himself, just before a knock came at his door. He shook his head and called out, “Come in!”
“I hope you’re still decent,” Trevin’s voice called as the door swung open, her eyes immediately landing on Gastropé on the bed. She made a small pout. “Apparently, you are,” she muttered to herself, but still audible to Gastropé.
“Just checking in to make sure you found your quarters and are getting settled,” Trevin said, smiling at Gastropé.
“I am, thank you,” Gastropé politely replied.
“You had enough to eat at dinner, I trust?” Trevin asked.
“It was very good.” Gastropé nodded with a smile. They had been served beef stew, cheese and bread in the great hall shortly after arriving.
Trevin nodded, apparently satisfied. “It was nothing fancy, just keep food. Tomorrow night, though, we shall have a true meal. We are going to have a combined welcome and farewell feast to celebrate this rather ad hoc adventure.” She smiled. “There will be a number of delicacies humans rarely get to sample, along with satyr beer and honey wine, as well as alvaren frost wine. You’ll want to eat and drink fully; it may be the last feast we get for quite some time.”
“Sounds good.” Gastropé nodded to her, his eyes trying to keep contact with hers as she slid into the room to rest her hand on his shoulder. “I’m looking forward to seeing the Grove,” Gastropé said nervously, trying to eye her hand.
She gave his shoulder a squeeze. I’m sure you’ll find it quite... provocative.” The enchantress was really standing a bit too close for comfort; Gastropé was getting a very strong dose of her perfume. He smiled and tried to scoot away slightly. This only caused the councilor’s gnarled hand to slide down over his right deltoid and grasp his bicep firmly. He felt a small bit of panic as he realized that his movement could have been interpreted as making room for her to sit down beside him. He glanced to the bed beside him and then back to her, hoping she was not taking the wrong kind of hint.
She simply grinned at him, sliding her hand down his bare bicep a bit more. Her gaze moved to what appeared to be a few inches in front of his chest, or was it his lap she was looking at? She got a slightly puzzled look for a moment and then a bright smile as she tightened her grip slightly on his bicep.
“Very impressive,” she said.
Gastropé got a panicked look on his face and turned pale, glancing down to make sure he was not showing anything in his lap. The old woman could not be that crude, could she?
“I imagine that very few young wizards your age, fairly fresh out of school, have the skill and ability to locate and bind a fiend. A rather powerful one at that, it appears. That binding could probably hold a major demon,” the enchantress said, still staring in front of him.
What was she talking about? Gastropé wondered if she had lost her mind. He was at a loss for words until he remembered that he had told people in Freehold that Tizzy was his bound demon. She must be referring to that. He relaxed a bit.
“Ah, so you saw my demon in Freehold?” Gastropé asked.
Trevin blinked and shook her head, looking him in the eyes again. “Uhm, no, afraid I didn’t. I was just noticing the binding link you had extending off into the nether regions and into the Abyss. Very skillfully crafted, I must say. I can honestly say, I am impressed.” She grinned at him. “In any event, sleep well tonight. We’ll be rising early, before dawn. A servant will wake you in time to do your morning ablutions before we break our fast with some fruit and bread. We will then take the lift up the cliff side. Unfortunately, the view won’t be ideal in the predawn light, particularly on this side of the mountains, but for some that’s a blessing.” She tilted her head. “Being a fellow Turelanean, however, I’m sure you are comfortable on carpets, so heights won’t be a problem?”
“Uhm, no, no problem,” Gastropé replied, still quite nervous and reeling from her statement about a binding link extending from him to the Abyss. What was she talking about? He had never, would never, put any sort of binding spell on Tizzy!