August's drop was a village of tents, placed around five different stone corridors centred around a large inner chamber where the large drop to the third floor was located. The place was cramped. Each passageway had its own row of tents leaving only a small section of the path open for travelers. Lanterns and torches lit up the small hamlet and a myriad of voices echoed through the warm halls. To Jakurk's left was the path out into the dungeon, to his right was the more crowded path to the central chamber. Behind him stood the healers tent. It actually looked pretty fancy compared to the tent beside it. Taller and more white. It seemed as if it was recently cleaned. A sign on the ground read open Wednesday to Friday.
"Are you the mage?" Further up the path stood a drakyr, light blue scales that covered its blocky head. A small hint of smoke left their maw as they drew breath. It dissipated into the air. He was larger than any other man in the hamlet and the enormous greatsword on his back could undoubtedly split a man in two.
The drakyr had no country or homeland, they were a wandering race, very few in number. Some say they were the ancient descendants of Skaldrings, the children of dragons. Others say that they were the predecessors to the newts. Whatever myth was true they were the race which most resembled monsters in both appearance and strength. "Have you never seen a drakyr before?" He had noticed Jakurks latent response.
"No, I have seen many, although I do hope you are not the mage who called for me" If the drakyr were the descendants of Skaldings then could they perhaps be born with a smoldering soul? no, if that were the case then the race would not be so few in number. And the elves wouldn't have been able to destroy their temples and take their lands so easily.
"No im not, she fancied herself too important to go get you herself, So she sent a most humble servant" The drakyr chuckled at one of his own thoughts. "I am Equa a swordbreaker"
"Jakurk, Jakurk Mianta Na…" He came close to saying a name which hadn't been spoken in many years. Perhaps it was due to an old memory.
"Opip Warrior!" Opip had come out of the tent and so had Tristin. Tristin had already introduced himself before. Both seemed somewhat excited. There was a sparkle of curiosity in their eyes as they stared at the overpowering almost intimidating figure of the Drakyr.
"Is it true that your kind breaths fire?" Opip was the first to ask. It was apparent that Trisitn had the same question on his mind. Jakurk simply rolled his eyes. Seeing their anticipation the Drakyr smiled. Closed his eyes and looked up towards the path's tall ceiling. The scales of his neck lit up one by one as the others looked in admiration even Jakurk had a faint smile. When the glow reached its zenith at the drakyr's maw a breath of blue fire erupted from his jaw and out into the air. The walls of the path shone in the blue glow as all marveled at the intensity of the flame. In a way it was like a firework. Capable of drawing the eyes of many but deadly upon touch.
A drakyr's fire was a sight to behold. It was something unique to their race and their race alone. The colour of the fire had no meaning except for a reveal of the Drakyrs heritage. There were five common kinds, Red, Blue, Yellow and Green. Of which the Red was the most common.
The fire came to a halt with a few smoky coughs. Using the fire took a toll on a drakyrs body. They burnt up a lot of fat that way and it was said that a drakyr was at their weakest after drawing fire.
"Good show" Jakurk clapped his hands. A few short courteous claps, like something rehearsed to use at a speech or after an okay ish performance. The others however had far more enthusiasm in their praise. After all, Drakyr fire was one of a kind, and something you likely only saw once in your life.
"I try my best" Equa scratched the back of their head. Just a little proud of his own flames. "Shall we get going?" Since he had done the courtesy of showing them his flames it was now a matter of almost obligation to come along to see whatever it was the other mage wanted. A duell most likely.
"I hope it won't be too long" Jakurk seemed just a tad bit grumpy. A little bit tired or a little bit angry at the momentary pause of his adventure. He walked past Equa and continued in through the hamlet. "It's this way right?" His voice already seemed a bit distant. Equa would have to hurry to his side in order to keep up.
"Will you two be joining us?" Equa said as he turned to the mage's companions. Hopefully it would be less of a deadly exchange if more people were present at the mages meeting.
"No, I have some shopping to do" Tristin tossed his heavy pouch from hand to hand. The stuff in the hamlet was more expensive than in town. But this was the last place one could buy warm food and good liquor. But maybe he should focus on finding some healing potions in case events like the spider room were the norm for this adventure.
"How about you?" Equa turned to the hound. The drakyr race had a history with the hounds. It was not a pretty one from either side. But Equa did not let the tall tales of the past define the people he met now unless they were elves.
"I'm not sure" Opip had to think. Who should she go with? The old mage who just got out of a sickbed and was heading towards what might be an unfriendly confrontation or the small, and weak Tristin who seemed to have a tendency of getting robbed or tricked.
"I will come with you two, I'd like to see a real mages duel" And so the group parted with Tristin and journeyd briefly though the labyrinth of tents and narrow passages until they reached the third exit. A narrow corridor out of August's drop. At the end was a doubled door with one door missing, the other seemed lodged into place unable to be moved. In front of it was a mage holding a metal torch.
In order to use magic. Mages needed to connect to their soul. Most souls carry no names, but all souls are connected to one of four other worlds of power. To access magic from this other world through one's soul you use one of the base elements, such as running water, strong wind, the shifting plates of an earthquake or the easiest and most accessible element of simply fire. A fire in any form was a magician's best friend.
Hence why most carried with them an iron torch withholding a fire lit from a primordial flame which could not go out in rain or wind and would burn for one thousand years. The whistle of a spell was the command, the burning torch was the conduit, and the soul was the source.
"Equa is that really the mage?" The other mage had a young high pitched voice. And from this distance they seemed to be a young grass folk just like Jakurk. They stood confidently each foot pointing outwards, their back straightened and they were good at keeping eye contact.
The robes they had were red and with a white trimming. Their boots were expensive and black. The torch they had was engraved with northern runes it must have been forged in the mountains of Askmark by a Earth folk smith of incredible calibre. Her skin was white and her hair almost as red as their robes. As Equa made his way over the passage to her side she simply nodded. "ha then this might not be much of a challenge at all"
"She seems awfully sure of herself doesn't she?" Jakurk whispered to Opip. They stood a good ten metres or so from each other. It was a custom for mages to not get too close to one another on their first meeting unless it was within a safe space. And the first floor of a dungeon was far from safe.
"I am Gnist Rovel, Apprentice to Fannila the mountain burner of Handjuk" Handjuk the largest nation on the Askmark continent. It was an Earthfolk country which ruled the western mountain chain of Finnloft. Which ran across most of the northern and western Askmark. It was run by a priesthood known as the makers of the mountains. It was a very religious place, welcoming to all the folk races but antagonistic to all which isn't.
"I am Jakurk Mianta, enough said, why did you wish to see me?" Jakurk did not feel the need to share the name of his masters as he felt he had surpassed them all, at least he had when he was younger.
Mages often only had one master who taught them all which they knew. And each master only had one or two apprentices. To limit oneself to one apprentice to pass down all one's knowledge was seen as virtuous across most of the world. If that apprentice could not live long enough to pass it on to the next generation then the spells or teachings were not worth being passed on in the first place. However some nations employed mages to teach small groups of elite troops in the ways of magic. Such mages were called warmages, they were shunned by the rest of the magical community for betraying tradition. Yet it was a practice which was becoming ever more common with the passing of the ages.
"Not one for introductions i see, Well Mianta, i think you already know why i called you, If you wish to already surrender then do so now and so so swiftly" It was going to be a duel. Of course. What more could one expect. An Ancient tradition passed down long before the storm shook the world. A Mages duel was sacred and a thing which existed in every culture, on every continent, isolated island, forgotten realm, deep burrow or any place which had mages. Magicians were said to be the most prideful people in the land. And they had every right to be. But they were also quite bad at self preservation. The average mage would die before thirty just like a dirty peasant. But what they died from was no plague, no war, no hunger nor thirst. But from the spell cast by another mage.
"/-/ I Jakurk Mianta swear the oath of Honour" As he did he made a gesture for Opip to step back. A sworn oath had power over all once it had been uttered and accepted it could not be taken back. An oath of Honour or an oath of Blood was common to take before a duel. Each one promised that no other would interfere in the duel. And the oath of honour promised the victor a price and that the defeated could live by accepting defeat. An oath of blood promised the same except for the defeated who would be honoured bound to death on defeat.
"/-/ I Rovella Gnist swear the oath of Honour" With that Equa stepped away from the mage. As she readied her torch. "I see you have no torch, How is it you plan to win without a conduit?" She shouted teasingly. A torch was also a part of a mages status. Quite simply the more expensive and the more detailed it appeared the higher status must the mage who wields it have. And Jakurk did not have one. It did not even seem like he had a magicians ring. So it seemed likely he was one who relied on an enchanted tattoo to do his bidding, or perhaps some kind of deity. Which meant it was either going to be an easy win for her or a tough fight. Most likely the first.
"I don't need one to win, only this" Jakurk held up a small stone pebble which he had taken from the ground. A small simple stone which felt slightly heavy in his hand.
"What? A stone?" What was he going to do with just that? Was he planning on throwing it or something? A stone like that thrown from a meager old man should be easy to dodge.
"Yes, just a stone" Jakurk held up the stone almost mockingly. It caused his opponents eyebrows to twitch but seemingly nothing more. What was he playing at, why just a stone. Was there a hidden meaning behind it or was it a distraction? Gnist had in her four years as a mage been in six duels. None of which had been to death but some had come close. She fancied herself somewhat of a duelist. With four wins and two losses.
Whatever it was the old mage was planning she wouldn't let it fly. She would finish it with a few decisive spells. "/–I–..." As she was about to cast the first spell. Jakurk responded with his own much quicker. Her own torch betrayed her becoming a catalyst for the other mages spell. An incredibly complicated maneuver, something which she had not thought to be possible.
"/o/" A simpler version of the gust spell he had used against the spiders. He dropped the stone right in front of him as he casted the spell. Immediately it was launched as if shot from a cannon. The composed gust of air had sent it at a speed impossible to dodge. It shot straight into Gnist's throat.
For a moment she could not breathe. She could not muster a word. The pain in her throat was so great that it almost made her lose her footing if it was not for the torch which held her up. She tried to regain her voice, without it she could not cast a spell. It did not work, she simply chipped for air. She remembered the potion in her pocket. And frantically reached for it.
Yet it was far too late. Jakurk had made his way over the short distance. He did not use a spell for his next attack he did not need to. it would just have been a waste of will. A single right hook into the pale and surprised face of his opponent and she was down. He took the torch from her hand and pointed it towards her, she was now without a weapon.
"I surrender" She knew that she had been beaten. She could only cast a spell if she had a direct connection to her torch. She had never learnt any martial art nor did she carry any concealed weapon except for the knife she'd never really used. The duel was over
The onlookers being just Opip and Equa looked on with their jaws wide open. The duel had only lasted for a few seconds. "Pity I was hoping to see some real fireworks" Equa managed a few words but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere. He had traveled with Gnist for about two years or so and he had never seen her loose before, much less been unable to use a spell at all. What kind of life had the other mage lived to have become such a frightening opponent. That with just low class wind spells as well.
"I should have gone with Tristin," Opip said to herself. The duel had not been all that exciting. Of course Jakurk had won which came as a little bit of a surprise. But then again the smell of a warrior was clearly on him. Or at least the cold smell of metal perhaps iron better described it.
Gnist took up a potion from her pouch which seemed to fix the lingering pain in her throat. "Where did you learn to cast like that?" Her master Fannila had been able to cast without a staff but even she had only managed it within a very short distance of a metre or so and only with a flame she herself had started.
"The army" Jakurks said nonchalantly as he looked over her torch. It was a beautiful piece when he could see it up close. The top part around the flame was well rounded and figurines of the eight gods of the mountains held up the top of the torch. A religion he did not believe in but either way they did some pretty good art. The hilt was easy to hold onto and it too was engraved with depictions of the flowing wind.
"Which army? A dulvelskan?" She could only guess by the tattoos beneath his eyes. And the dialect of his speech. But she was thrown off by his elven cloak and colorful clothing. He could have fought for one of the Elven warlords that now roamed the north of Cezen. But he didn't seem like the mercenary type.
"I'll be taking this, as my reward for the duel" Jakurk ignored the rest of her questions. Why should he tell someone who basically tried to assault him his life story? He took her torch and began to leave.
"Wait, you can't take that!" Gnist's voice was desperate. without a torch she couldn't use any spells. She would be practically useless. And it was also a torch passed down from her mentor directly to her so the sentimental value played some part in it too.
"Yes I can, I won, Just use a normal torch like the poor" Jakurk was happy with his new toy. A beautifully crafted torch almost as good as the one he had back in the day. It would surely do much good by his side. And having and owning a conduit as good as this one would make his spells far less expensive. Meaning he could use them more often and not as sparsely.
Equa helped Gnist back onto her feet. "Do you want me to.." He did a crude gesture with his hands implying the napping of a neck. He was fully prepared to do some unsavoury, a bit illegal acts for a friend.
"No, he won, fair and square" Her voice was cold, angry. She knew she couldn't do anything about it except immerse herself in her own self loathing. It would have been better if he asked for something simpler like coins or an oathbound favor.
As Jakurk turned the corner to return to August's drop he looked back and shouted. "If you want it back, you can challenge me next time we meet" And with that both he and the hound left.
"I see now why you smell of a warrior" Opip's words echoed throughout the narrow passage as they walked. "Where did you learn that kind of fighting?" Opip's curiosity for the mage was only growing for each day. Where had he come from, which master had he served. What kind of powers did he wield?
"As I have already said I learnt it in the army" Jakurks answer was shallow and dry. But seeing Opip's disappointment he decided to continue just a little bit. "Listen this is not something I tell other people.." He had to take a breath before he continued. "I fought in the great rebellion almost fifty years ago, as a warmage" His words were short and dry, and his memories muddled by old wounds and dark emotions. "On the side of the Orrain dynasty"
"You fought for the last dynasty? I didn't know you were that old.." Opip was one of very few people who wouldn't be shaken by such a revelation. Some of her ancestors had fought in the war on both the rebels and the Orrains side. And she herself had no strong opinions on it. But Jakurk was shaken by her comment.
"Im only seventy five" But it was true he was old. He knew that himself. The oldest of the oldest grasslands only ever lasted till around eighty or just above ninety. He only had a few years left to accomplish what he had set out to do.