Chapter 3
Mel the self-taught wizard absentmindedly rubbed at the bridge of his aquiline nose, taking a seat at the bar next to her while Barty stood there listening as he answered her question, “I know enough that they tend to be intricate and complex. Depending on the curse, it could take a lot of time to create one. What kind of curse are we talking about?”
Looking around, Laura made sure that no one else was within earshot as she lowered her voice, both Mel and Barty leaned closer to make sure that they could hear her, “A curse that makes the target forget everything as they go about their daily life. However, the curse was interrupted and the person cursed is now in a state of permanent unconsciousness.”
“How was the curse cast,” the young wizard asked.
“My f….,” Laura briefly hesitated and quickly tried to hide the slip up, “My friend and comrade-in-arms was held in place while the wizard positioned his hand over my friend’s head and something that looked like a glowing green fog went from the wizard’s hand to my friend’s head.”
Mel was deep in thought as Laura tried not to get her hopes up. After all, the man wasn’t an accredited wizard. Had barely spent a year at the Wizard’s College. And judging by his looks, it appeared as if he had never spent much time outdoors either. While he was thin, there were no defined muscles in his arms. She looked into his black eyes, trying to get some clue from them as to what he was thinking about. Yet she could not discern anything as he ran a hand through his black hair that was parted and combed to the right.
“I can’t think of any cure or counterspell that might undo such a curse,” Mel finally answered. Laura sighed, knowing that it had been a long shot as she sat forward, her right elbow resting on the table, stroking her scar and taking a sip of tea. But Mel continued, “However, I think it is imperative that your friend be awoken as soon as possible.”
“Why,” she asked, quickly focusing her attention on Mel once more.
“Because the spell was interrupted, your friend’s unconscious state could mean that the spell’s progress has been hastened due to the incomplete casting of it. From what little you were able to see and describe as to the method of it being cast, my assumption is that the spell was to happen over a stretch of time resulting in the victim slowly losing their memories.” Mel leaned towards Laura, “There are spells and potions that would turn a person into a mindless husk within an instant. This wizard, whoever he is, really wanted to make your friend suffer.”
Barty was called back into the kitchen as Mel finished his explanation. Anger rose up in Laura. Her left hand had drifted down to the hilt of her gladius and she was gripping it tightly.
Before the conversation could continue, a boisterous group of a dozen men burst through the doors, drowning out the low murmurings of the dining room’s inhabitants. The newcomers were all laughing, jostling each other around, while making their way to the bar. By their red and yellow uniforms, this was a group of militia, most likely from the nearest town.
At the head of the group was a large man with blonde hair, brown eyes, and a slim, muscular physique. His face, which many women would call handsome was marred, at least in Laura’s eyes, with a permanent sneer etched on his face. He was the tallest of the group and seemed to be in charge. Out of the corner of her eye, Laura watched as the man noticed her and slightly shifted the direction of his path, headed straight to where she was sitting; the rest of the group following.
“Ale,” he yelled at the top of his voice as he pushed Mel off of the stool next to Laura, grabbed the book, and threw it at the magician who juggled it for a bit before he was able to get a firm grasp on the book. A dark look crossed over Mel’s face for a brief second before saying, in a polite voice, “Excuse me, we were having a conversation.”
“Go away farmer,” the man sneered. “Jock de la Vargas sits where he likes and I sit right here.” He leered at Laura as Barty came out from the kitchen with two young women following him. They appeared to be his daughters and all three of them were carrying trays with mugs of ale and plates of food. The food and drink were quickly and efficiently set up along the bar in front of the newly arrived group.
“Sergeant Vargas,” Laura addressed Jock with barely controlled anger, noticing the stripes that indicated his rank. “You just interrupted a very important conversation I was having.”
Jock took a large gulp of ale, set the mug back on the bar table, and said, “Doubt it could be important. Not when you could be talking to me instead.”
“I’d be surprised if you were capable of having any kind of intelligent conversation,” Laura snapped as she stood up. Normally, she would have been more diplomatic in her approach with this type of person, but she wanted to find out more about the spell from Mel and this fool was wasting her time. Mel, meanwhile, had returned to his booth, placing the book down on the table, and picked up his staff.
But as she stood up to go over there, Jock stood up as well, blocking her path, “Where are you going? Normally, I am not attracted to dark meat. But damn me, you are fine enough for me to get over my distaste. Gob’s spit, I will even forgive you for almost being flat-chested, though I guess you only need a handful!”
The rest of the men, who had been laughing up to this point, simmered down with just a couple chuckles coming from some of them.
Barty, his face red with anger barked, “Sergeant…”
He never finished.
Jock had started to reach for her. Laura turned to face the conceited brute who stood a full head taller than her. Her left hand was still gripping the hilt of her sword and, as she turned to face him, she saw his eyes widen as he noticed that she was armed. She would have to be quick because she was in a corner and didn’t have a lot of space to maneuver. Before he could do anything else, she drew her sword with her left hand, smashing the pommel into the middle of Jock’s chin. However, being right-handed, she knew that the blow wouldn’t knock him out. As he staggered, she slapped the hilt from her left to her right hand while simultaneously shifting her left leg forward, and swung the pommel into the man’s jaw, shifting her weight with the blow. Normally, with such a punch, she would follow through, but she didn’t because the blade might have accidentally sliced him. Laura was betting that the bronze pommel would add enough to her swing to get the job done.
Jock dropped into an unconscious heap. Flipping the sword in her hand, she held it pointed at the group, prepared for an attack.
The entire inn became silent.
“Sorry senorita,” a portly man finally said as a minute of silence passed. Another militiaman dumped his mug of ale onto Jock’s face who woke up, spluttering and wheezing.
“Goblut,” Jock roared. It was a shortened term for the phrase goblin slut, an insult meant to insinuate that a person was so low and pathetic that they could only sleep with a goblin.
Jock got to his feet and looked as if he was prepared to rush Laura, ignoring the naked blade in her hand. A loud crack was heard and the sergeant dropped to his knees, hands over the back of his head, howling in pain. Mel had swung his staff, hitting the man in the back of the head, as he had made his way over from the booth and stepped past the group until he stood at Laura’s side, slightly shaking his right arm and wincing in pain.
“Arrest them,” the sergeant said through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.
“No you won’t,” Barty said as the group of men looked at each other when the order had been given. “You just tried to assault a Lieutenant in the King’s army, Jock.”
“Liar,” the sergeant said, grimacing in pain. “Women don’t serve in the military!”
Barty’s nostrils flared, “Not only do you harass a customer, but now you call me a liar?”
“We’re sorry Barty,” the portly militiaman rambled. “He doesn’t know what he is doing. He was just blowing off some steam. We’ve been out on patrol for the last few days looking for the goblin raiding party.”
“I don’t care what your excuses are,” the innkeeper snapped. “Even if she wasn’t a Lieutenant in the army, I would still be reporting you to the magistrate for harassing and intimidating a woman while on duty and getting into a fight. The fact that the person you accosted is a Lieutenant will make it worse for you.”
Jock’s face turned beet red and there was murder in his eyes as he got up and charged towards Barty. As he prepared to leap over the bar, Mel’s right arm shot forward and thin tendrils of lightning flew through the air and slammed into the sergeant, while he was in midair, throwing him to the other side of the bar.
As if they had been struck by the lightning themselves, the group of militiamen quickly moved away from Laura and Mel who were both prepared to fight. Rather than fight, though, the group went over to where Jock was lying on the floor, once again unconscious, picked him up and started moving towards the door.
“Arrest him,” Laura shouted at the group before they could leave the inn. “He attempted an assault on an officer in the King’s army and must be arrested and judged.”
Confused, the men looked at each other before doing what she ordered. They quickly tied Jock’s wrists behind his back and left the inn.
Laura sheathed her gladius and sat back down at the bar, her anger dissipating. Mel went to retrieve his book, came back, picked up the stool that had been knocked down in the fight, and sat next to Laura again.
“I’ll be sending a letter of complaint to the magistrate in the morning, if you’d care to sign it as well,” said Barty who started to wipe down the bar table with an unnecessary amount of force. His daughters came back in and started gathering the discarded mugs and plates of food.
Laura nodded an acknowledgement before looking at Mel. “Thank you for helping, who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t displayed some power. I might have ended up having to fight the entire group and that would have been bloody.”
Mel simply shrugged as he pretended to wipe some invisible dust from the cover of his book, slightly embarrassed at her thanks. “It just wouldn’t have been a fair fight,” he mumbled. “I may not know how to fight, but I know a couple of spells to see me through one.”
“Speaking of spells,” Laura said. “Do you know of any that could cure for my friend?”
“As I was about to say, before we were interrupted, I think the priority is to find a way to wake your friend up. It would buy us more time to find a cure for the curse by slowing down the process that might have been quickened when the spell was interrupted.”
“So then I still need to travel down to the Wizard’s College in Toledo.” She noticed that Mel hesitated answering her and looked as if he might have another idea. “What,” she asked.
“I might be able to create a potion that should be capable of waking your friend up,” he said slowly as he stared at her. “I have in my book collection a tome that talks about sleeping spells as well as provides a number of counter-spells and potions to overcome them.”
Laura wasn’t sure. If this suggestion had come from a wizard who had graduated from the college, then she would have taken the chance. But Mel had only attended the college for a year and was, by his admission, mostly self-taught. He seemed sincere though and radiated some confidence that he could do it. But time was of the essence.
“My town is only about 60 miles to the southwest and five miles off of the South-Western Highway that leads to Toledo,” he added. “It is only a slight detour.”
It was only a slight detour Laura thought to herself. Toledo was about 200 miles to the southwest, following the same highway, and it would take six to seven days to get there on horseback. But to his town, it would only take no more than two days to reach it.
“What’s the name of your town,” Laura asked as she stood up, coming to a decision.
“Burgos,” was the reply.
“Then prepare to ride first thing in the morning.”
With a nod, the wizard quickly gathered his things and went upstairs. Laura sat back down to finish her tea and to wait for Barty who came out a few minutes later.
Signalling him over, she asked, “What do you know of this wizard?”
The innkeeper rubbed his bald head for a bit before answering, “Not too much. Likeable enough fellow, but keeps to himself most of the time. Really loves books, especially about magic. Made a deal with me a while back to purchase any books that came through here. He will drop everything to come down here when I send him a message that I have acquired some books for him. It’s why he came here today. Though he arrived later than he normally does whenever he receives my messages.”
“Have you ever seen him use magic?”
“Before tonight? Never. Didn’t really care about his claims of being a magic user so long as he kept reimbursing me for the books I purchased. But after tonight’s little display? I believe it now!”
Hearing all she could find out, Laura asked Barty to wake her and Mel at dawn. She made her way back up to her room, feeling a little bit better now that she had a plan. Granted, she was taking a risk on the young wizard, but the potential reward far outweighed the risk of losing half-of-a-day if it didn’t work out. If it worked, she would be able to wake her father up before a week had passed rather than spending almost two weeks in the saddle there and back from Toledo, the kingdom’s capital.
Before going to sleep, she took the time to clean her sword and armor. Wiping them down until they gleamed and there wasn’t a speck of dirt left. The routine was comforting and kept her busy. Done with the maintenance, she shucked off her clothes, stowed them away, put on a maroon nightshirt, and crawled into the comfortable bed. As her head hit the pillow, her thoughts drifted to her father as sleep claimed her.
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