Freelance Heroics (36 page)

Gavi nudged Mazik and pointed. “Look. It’s a spellhound.”

She wasn’t sure, but Gavi thought Mazik might have let out a squeal. “Ooo, puppy!” He kneeled down and beckoned to the dog. It ignored him. “Aww, I wanna pet the puppy!”

Gavi glanced at Raedren. He shrugged, though she could tell he was surreptitiously watching the dog as well. Gavi chuckled.

Knapp called for everybody’s attention.

Once everyone quieted down, and once Knapp apologized—again—for how they had been brought there, he rested his hand on the dog’s head. “Everyone, this is Crash. She’s a Nijāst Golden Spellwolf. She’s one of the reasons you’ve been brought here today.”

“Puppy!” cooed Mazik. Gavi elbowed him.

“As you may know, this village breeds and trains the most highly sought-after spellhounds in the world. Dogs like Crash here”—Knapp ruffled the dog’s ears—“sell for a
lot
. That’s because we make sure they’re not only well-bred, but well-trained, in obedience and magick.”

Knapp pursed his lips and whistled. Crash sprang to her feet. He pulled a stick from behind his back and tossed it into the air. He pointed as the stick fell. “Crash, blast!”

The dog’s hackles raised as she growled. Sparks ran up her muzzle, and then she barked. Golden mana shot out, and the stick exploded.

Some of the adventurers nodded appreciatively. Several clapped. One cheered. Mazik hopped from foot to foot, giggling and applauding.

Gavi sighed inwardly.
That dog’s better at casting than I am.

She fingered the focus crystal necklace she was borrowing from Mazik and keened the dog. Sure enough, it had a mana pool. It wasn’t as large as Gavi’s, but the dog was also half her size, which meant her mana could be stretched further.

“We keep our village’s location a secret precisely because our spellhounds are so sought-after.” Knapp snapped his fingers, and Crash sat. “If people knew where we were, they would undoubtedly come and try to steal them. Which, unfortunately, is exactly what’s happened.

“Old foes of ours, the Riders of the Noble Hunt, found our village.” Knapp turned on his heels. The spellhound hopped up to follow him. “Please follow me. I’ll explain everything once we reach the kennel.”

Mazik hummed as they made their way through the village. He was still sleepy, but he was setting that aside for now. Once they found out what was going on, maybe he could find time for a nap.
Besides, puppies!

He glanced at his friends. Gavi was in tourist mode, her eyes scouring the village and its people as she took in this new place. Raedren was silent, as he so often was, and his expression was inscrutable, though Mazik assumed he was just lost in thought as he also so often was.

Not wanting to bother them, Mazik turned to the adventurers in front of them. The Nijāst led the way, with Yintour and her guildmates coming next and two adventurers in robes behind them. That left one adventurer, a man dressed in dark colors and with a pair of curved swords on his left side, as Mazik’s nearest target.

He tapped the man on the shoulder. “So, have you been here before?”

The man glanced at Mazik, but said nothing. Mazik dimly remembered having had a conversation with him the night before, though, now that he thought of it, he also remembered doing most of the talking. Mazik wracked his brain for what he knew of the man. “You’re from Cajival, right?”

“Aye.”

“What city?”

There was a long pause, so long that Mazik wondered whether the man had heard him or if he was being ignored. Then he said, “Olihás.”

“Ooo, really? So I’m sure you’ve been to the Aulítra Festival before, right?”

The dark-clad man again said nothing, though he nodded.

“Awesome.” Mazik hopped forward until he was walking beside the man, which he was sure probably annoyed him, but Mazik didn’t care. “We heard it was a great party, so we’re thinking of going this year. Any tips?”

“No.”

Mazik tried again, but got nothing out of the Cajivalan man. He only quit when they arrived at their destination.

As they passed through a waist-high stone fence and entered a wide clearing, maybe twenty-five meters across, Mazik noticed a chalk circle in the center. It looked like a training area, or perhaps a fighting ring, judging by the blackened, scarred, and occasionally cratered ground. Looking back, he saw that the stone fence they had passed was interspersed with several guard huts, where two or three people could take cover under a basic overhang. All around them, Nijāst wearing green vests and carrying swords or bows watched the new arrivals closely.
Guards
, thought Mazik, recognizing their native mistrust.

Just past the training ring, the group ambled to a stop before the large stone building. On the front steps stood an older man in a dark blue tunic and creased trousers with a white-blonde spellhound at his side.

The older man smiled, though any happiness in the expression didn’t reach his eyes. “Welcome to our village.” He bowed so low that the spellhound licked his face. He wiped at his cheek. “I’m Chief Boern. Thank you for coming.”

Mazik examined the chief as he hobbled down the steps. Boern was the first local Mazik had seen carrying extra weight, most noticeably in his cheeks and fingers. He moved with pronounced stiffness, though Mazik suspected that was from stress and exhaustion more than age. In fact, signs of stress were etched all over Chief Boern. He looked frazzled, like he was one step away from an anxiety attack—and not a large step, at that. Boern wore a bulky necklace that looked like a symbol of office, each thumb-sized chunk of wood engraved with a different strange figure.

Chief Boern’s hobble disappeared once he cleared the steps. He took in the small crowd of adventurers. “Ten! Excellent work, Knapp.”

Knapp bowed.

“Are those some Alterites I see?” Chief Boern scuttled over to Yintour and her guildmates. “You’re Yintour, correct?”

“The one and only.” She extended her hand, angled up so that Chief Boern could grasp it without having to stoop. “It’s nice to meet you, Chief Boern. Our leader has told us about you.”

“Only good things, I hope!” The two of them laughed.

Once Chief Boern had exchanged words with all of the Alter of Tower members, he moved down the line. He thanked the other three adventurers for coming to the Nijāst’s aid again—
I guess they’re frequent hires
, thought Mazik. Then Boern arrived at Mazik’s group.

The old chief inspected them. “And you three are the ones who helped with that orck situation in Saffir.”

“I’m surprised someone who lives in a hidden village has heard about that,” said Mazik.

Chief Boern smiled, and once again, it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I try to keep abreast of matters that could impact our community. Also, Knapp told me about it this morning.”

“Ah.” Mazik inclined his head. “Nice to meetcha. What exactly do you want us to do?”

“Right to business. Of course.” Chief Boern retreated to the stone steps. “What has Knapp told you?”

It was Knapp who spoke. “Just why we brought them here the way we did, and that the Noble Hunt found us. I haven’t gone into detail.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you.” Chief Boern cleared his throat. “The Riders of the Noble Hunt are old enemies of ours. They worship a deity called Wildan the Hunter, and—stop me if you all know this, by the way—they’re familiar users. In their case, they tame and mutate animals to create special familiars, through which they can cast their magick.”

“They create aku?” asked Gavi.

Chief Boern nodded. “That’s why we’ve always been selective about who we sell our spellhounds to. We don’t want them falling into the hands of the Noble Hunt.”

The Nijāst chief turned and climbed back up the steps. He slapped the building’s wall. “This is the kennel, where we raise, train, and house our spellhounds until they’re sold. Four days ago, the Noble Hunt invaded our village, broke into the kennel, and made off with nearly two dozen spellhounds.”

Mazik winced. The last time he had seen an aku, it had been created by mutating fresh corpses into a giant, angry, raging insult against nature. Those dogs probably weren’t alive anymore.

“We brought you here because we lost a number of people in the initial attack, and the Noble Hunt’s numbers appear to have been growing since. We need your help to defend our village, and to prevent them from taking any more of our spellhounds.” Chief Boern looked around, searching for something, and then turned to Knapp. “Knapp, could you go find Captain Sie? It looks like she didn’t make it here on time.” He smiled thinly. “Again.”

“Of course.” Knapp departed.

Chief Boern turned back to the adventurers. “Captain Sie will be the one who will give you your assignments. I believe some of you will be defending this building, while others will be stationed on the edge of town. If we get an opportunity to strike back at the Noble Hunt, you may be asked to help with that as well. But first, I need to tell you more about what you’ll be defending.”

He rapped a knuckle on the wall. “The kennel is our most defensible building. It’s constructed entirely of fortified stone, and the inner walls have been plated with tempered steel. There are a few windows in the upper reaches”—he pointed to the top of the building—“around the bell tower, though they have been enhanced as well. There are ventilation ducts inside, but they’re too small for anything larger than a mouse. By the way, if you hear that bell ring three times or more, that means the kennel is under attack. If you’re not otherwise occupied, please rush here immediately.”

Chief Boern rested his palm on the front door. It was made of dark wood, and though it was thicker than ordinary doors, it was nowhere as sturdy as the walls around it. “Now I need to show you how to open this. This is the only entrance into the kennel. Would one of you like to try?”

One of the Alter of Tower adventurers offered. He took the three steps in a single stride and yanked on the handle. It wouldn’t budge. Boern urged him on. The adventurer strained, pulling with all his strength, but the door remained shut.

“As you can see, it’s locked.” Chief Boern produced a key. “Sorry about that. Here.”

The adventurer stuck the key in the lock and twisted it—but it wouldn’t turn. He held it up. “Is this the right key?”

“It is.” The Nijāst leader took the key back. “Have any of you heard of Volokaus, the God of Locks?”

Mazik had, and said so, as did several others. Chief Boern muttered an incantation. A soft glow surrounded him, and then the key turned. He opened the door.

“I’m a disciple of Volokaus, and I enchanted this door to only open for set people who have the right key and say the right words.” Chief Boern held up the iron key. “Even if I give you this key and tell you what to say, the door wouldn’t open. That goes for opening it from the inside as well. There shouldn’t be any reason for you to access the building, but if for some reason you do, bear that in mind. Typically, there are only four people who can open this door: myself, the leader of our defensive forces, our head spellhound breeder, and our lead spellhound trainer.”

Mazik nodded. He had encountered Volokaus locks back at Telman, after several professors got tired of students sneaking into their offices. The good ones not only secured a door, but strengthened it too. He—

Wait a tick.

It didn’t take Mazik long to put two and two together. “If this is the only door into the kennel, and there are only four people who can open it, how did the Noble Hunt get inside? And how did they find your village in the first place?”

Chief Boern grimaced. It was the first honest emotion he had shown so far. “I’m afraid one of our own betrayed us.”

“Shit, hold that!” interrupted a voice from inside. The door swung open, and the voice’s owner slipped through the gap. “Thanks. Sorry, Effami was too busy to let me out.”

The newcomer was barely old enough to be called a man. Perhaps eighteen or nineteen years old, he had deeply tanned skin, brown hair that hung to his eyebrows, and a scrawny frame. He was wearing the same green vest as the Nijāst patrolling the kennel grounds, but with the cocksure smile of youth. On his back was a bow and quiver, and at his side was a long knife. His smile, his posture, the way he walked—Mazik couldn’t help it.
Look at this punk kid.

“Caspian,” said Chief Boern. “Have you found anything yet?”

The young man shook his head. “Not yet. The bastard isn’t saying anything new. I find it hard to believe he wouldn’t have known, though.”

Mazik’s ears perked up. “Who wouldn’t have known? Your traitor?”

Chief Boern rubbed his forehead, and let out a long breath. “Not quite.” He turned to Caspian. “Would you mind staying with everyone until the captain arrives? I have business to attend to.”

The young Nijāst’s eyes narrowed. “Are these those mercenaries you were bringing in?”

“We prefer adventurers,” said Mazik.

“Yes, this is them,” said Chief Boern. “Will that be a problem?”

Caspian paused for a long second, then shrugged. “Whatever. Yeah, I’ll stay with them.”

“Thank you. Answer any questions they have, but
only
about the incident, or anything they need to know to do their jobs. Nothing unnecessary.”

Caspian waved him away. “I know, I know.”

Chief Boern turned to the adventurers and bowed. He looked exhausted. “Thank you again for agreeing to help us. For an old man who was never much good at magick, I feel much better having you here. If you have any questions, feel free to come see me.”

Mazik waited until Chief Boern had left, the big spellhound following him. He turned to the young man, Caspian. “So I assume he wasn’t the one who opened the door for your enemies. Who was it?”

Caspian looked like he wanted to spit. “The head breeder. Name’s Rhea Enc’Ordwinn. She was a total hardass. Always seemed pissed off about something, but real dedicated to her job. Then she goes and does this.”

“It doesn’t sound like you’re surprised.”

The young Nijāst shrugged. “Wouldn’t have thought anyone would do this. But if anyone would, I’m not surprised it was her.”