62. The Mortal World (Patreon)

It took Oz until the sun dipped toward the horizon to put the Mages’ Quarter behind him. At the city’s gate, he gazed down a long, long path down the small mountain to the valley below. From this high up, the mortal villages and cities sprawled out before him like playsets, picturesque farms cut out of dense forests, little clusters of houses knitted together in bundles. Distantly, a huge castle dominated the valley’s other end. Walls hundreds of meters tall blocked off the mountain pass entirely, preventing outsiders from breaking in.

Oz took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Somewhere down there is my scandal. I just have to get down there and find it!

He took off down the stairs. The path wound down through a forest, cutting back and forth down the mountain. Pine sap lent the air a crisp sweetness, the needles thick underfoot. Stone slats formed the steps, the gray shale flaked into natural slabs and placed at even intervals down the natural incline of the slope to form a sort of staircase. Here and there, an oak or maple loomed, casting splotchy shade amidst the narrow shadows of the pines.

How nostalgic, Fflyn commented.

“Nostalgic?” Oz asked.

Fflyn requested control, and for a moment, Oz let him take it. He turned his head, looking around. “Nostalgic.”

Returning control to Oz, Fflyn sighed. I walked up these steps with my parents when I was little, after we discovered I had potential as a mage. I remember being so excited, I dreamed about nothing else for weeks. The Mages’ Quarter. That secluded land where mages live and study magic, and me, making my way there. It felt… magical.

“Oh, really?”

Almost all aspiring mages walk up these steps. It’s a kind of trial, I suppose, Fflyn commented. A moment later, his tone turned dark. Back then, I was such a fool. I had no idea my parents had already sold me to the Black Blades. My dream of being a hero mage died before I ever reached the Mages’ Quarter.

“Well, I’m going to buy that back for you,” Oz promised.

Silence. After a moment, Fflyn nodded. Thank you.

They walked on. The sun continued to set. Oz lifted a hand to his eyes. “I don’t think we’re going to reach town before night. We might need to walk past sundown.”

There’s a little tavern about halfway up the mountain where we ought to be able to spend the night. Keep walking. We’re almost there.

“Got it.”

Twilight fell, cloaking the forest in thick gloom. The further he walked, the darker it grew. Strange cries echoed through the forest around Oz, and here and there, shadowy shapes flickered through the underbrush. Oz hurried up, activating his light-body technique and speeding to a jog. With the light-body technique, he leaped steps at a time, speeding down the mountain. “How much further?”

We’re close. Keep going.

The cries grew louder, closing in on Oz from both sides. A stick cracked, sharp and stiff. The hairs at the back of Oz’s neck stood on end. They can keep pace, even with the light-body technique? Shit. That’s a fey beast or demon for sure.

“Do you know what those things are we’re hearing in the woods?” he asked Fflyn. The bestiary is only so good. Is that noise ‘gibbering?’ Or is it perhaps ‘crying?’ Or is it ‘a distinct plaintive cry?’ I’m not getting close enough to find out.

Fflyn swallowed. No. Let’s not find out.

“Agreed.”

Not wasting any more of his air on talking, Oz focused on descending the stairs. Footfalls sounded in the forest nearby. An eerie cry, almost like a wounded child, floated on the air. He sped from a jog to a sprint, dashing down the stairs ten at a time.

Fallen needles crunched in the forest, keeping pace with him. A cry sounded from his left, and was answered by a cry from his right, high-pitched and keening, full of hunger. The undergrowth rustled. Closer. Closer.

Oz hurtled around a turn, and warm light emanated from the forest ahead of him. Energy surged into his body, and he sprinted even faster, clearing the last stand of trees to find a small clearing before him.

A small mountain shack stood before him, rugged wooden plank exterior, heavy shutters, and all. Candlelight spilled out the open windows, welcoming him in. He entered the clearing, relief flooding his heart as the needles turned to meadowgrass underfoot.

From the shadows, piercing cries yearned, almost moaning. Footsteps circled the lit space, the creatures unwilling to enter the lit space.

Oz hurried up to the door and pushed it open, stumbling inside. He leaned up against the wall, catching his breath. What the hell is in this forest? I almost died! And this is the path they send mortal kids up, on their path to become mages?

I’m starting to think I might be better off hiding in the library forever!

Oz shook his head. I can’t be a coward. I need to find that scandal, or it’s over for me. I can’t give up at the first sign of danger.

Catching himself, he pushed off the wall and dusted down his robes, looking around. A cozy tavern spread around him, small and neat. To either side of him, a single split-log table sat, furnished with log benches. Furs and deer heads hung from the walls Ahead, a bar dominated the remaining space, stretched across the entirety of the rear wall. A burly man stood behind the bar, cleaning up for the night. His hair receded from his forehead, more gray than black. A gray beard hung halfway down his broad chest. Wrinkles creased his weathered face. He wore simple clothes and a filthy apron, and completely ignored Oz.

Oz approached the bar. He cleared his throat.

Scrubbing a mug, the man ignored him.

Putting a customer-service smile on his face, Oz tried again. “Hello?”

The man turned. “Yes?”

“Can I get a room for the night?” Oz requested. Fflyn’s stomach grumbled, so he added, “And a meal?”

“Meal’s included in the price of a room. Three copper.”

Oz froze. Uh…

Breast pocket, left side. I have some mortal money there.

Oz reached into Fflyn’s pocket and pulled out a sack of coins. He peered inside.

Gold, silver, and spirit stones all jostled together. A few small copper coins swam at the bottom of the pouch. Reaching in, Oz fished out three of the small coins and set them on the counter.

The man swept them off the bar and tucked them into his apron. He nodded. “Take a seat. Maisel’ll bring you food in a minute.”

Oz nodded.

Ignoring him once more, the man turned back to scrubbing mugs.

I’m getting the vibes that this guy isn’t much of a talker. Oz glanced around, then retreated to the left table. Putting his back to the bar, he faced the front door, unable to forget the things that had stalked him outside. Even if those things aren’t willing to enter the light, I can’t get comfortable with my back to the door.

He’d barely had time to rest his feet before the hinge on the bar flap creaked. Oz sat upright, looking over. A rosy-cheeked woman, nearly as broad as the bartender, bustled over. Like the man, she wore simple clothes, but hers bore signs of love, little brightly-colored patches and embroidered designs floating here and there on her wool dress. A red gem the size of a robin’s egg glittered at her neck, at odds with her simple manner of dress. Oz glanced at it, a little confused. Is that a ruby? No, no way. Maybe it’s a garnet. Garnets aren’t usually that valuable.

She beamed at Oz as she set a bowl of hearty stew down before him. “Heading up the mountain? You’re brave, doing it all alone!”

“Ah, I’m heading down, actually,” Oz clarified, a little embarrassed from her praise.

Maisel slid into the bench opposite him and leaned her head on her hand. “Heading down! Wow. You’re already a mage, then, at your young age. How impressive! Could you show me some magic?”

“I’m tired. Maybe in the morning?” Oz deferred.

“Of course, of course. Eat up!” Maisel invited him, gesturing at the stew.

Oz reached for the spoon, snorting under his breath. I guess Maisel got all the talkativeness that the man gave up. He went to take a bite.

Seconds before the stew met his lips, Fflyn jerked up. Oz, wait! That smell—there’s a sleeping potion mixed into that stew!

Oz startled, spilling the stew from his spoon. He looked down at the bowl. Are you sure?

Completely. Trust an assassin-in-training.

He glanced at Maisel. With her sitting across from me, I can’t exactly toss it or ignore it completely. I guess I’ll just do what every spoiled brat does, and push food around my plate until she gets bored and leaves!

Internally, he glanced at Fflyn. Do you have something to eat?

Fasting pills.

Dammit. Why do those things taste so bad?

You get used to it, after a while.

Still playing with his food, he eyed Maisel. What’s their goal in putting a sleeping potion in my food? Why do that?

I don’t know. They didn’t do that the last time I was here. I couldn’t sleep from excitement, so I’m sure of it.

Oz’s gaze landed on Maisel’s necklace. Bet she didn’t have that the last time you were here, either.

Robbery? I guess.

Still, it’s strange. A simple tavern like this, secluded from everyone… What’s driven them to crime?

Could be they got greedy. Sometimes, people will bring their fortunes with them, in hopes of buying a slot in a respectable sect. The mage sects will shut down bandits, but I guess this is so small, it’s gone under the radar.

Guess so. Let’s keep our wits about us and not get robbed!

“You aren’t hungry?” Maisel asked, smiling sweetly.

Oz shook his head. He pushed the bowl away from him and stood. “I’m too tired to eat. I think I’ll go to bed early.”

“Are you sure? A growing boy like you needs to eat a lot to grow up big and strong!” she encouraged him.

With a dramatic yawn, Oz shook his head. “Too sleepy. I’ll eat tomorrow.”

“If you’re sure. I’ll cook a big breakfast for you,” Maisel promised, clearing the bowl away.

The bartender looked up. “Rooms are up the stairs. Take the first one on the right.” He tossed a key to Oz.

Oz snatched it out of the air and nodded. “Thanks!”

As he walked up the stairs, the front door to the tavern slammed open. A man and a woman stumbled inside, the man carrying a young boy of about five years in his arms. The woman looked around and let out a relieved sigh, quickly turning to check on her child. Giving her a gentle look, the man patted her reassuringly on the back and walked to the counter. “One room, please.”

“Three coppers. Dinner’s included.”

Over at the table, Maisel chimed in, “Right over here, I’ve got some soup hot and ready! Come sit, sit. Let the little one eat. I’ll go cook up two more portions for you quickly.”

Oz paused. He swept his mental energy over the trio and detected no signs of having cultivated qi. Mortal. They’re all mortals.

Dammit. I can’t just sit back and watch this couple rob these people blind. I’ll have to monitor the situation here tonight. Hopefully my main body is fine meditating overnight!

“Thank goodness. We walked all the way here from Perham Donny, and we are exhausted. We thought we were dead to those… things in the woods,” the woman said, sagging to a seat on the bench.

The man passed her the child and walked to the table to pay the bartender. “Thank you. We’d be dead without a rest spot.”

The boy coughed weakly into his mother’s chest. She looked down, worried, and cradled him closer. “Shh, shh. It’ll be better soon.”

“He’s sick?” Maisel asked, drawing away.

“No, no!” the mother insisted, shaking her head.

Maisel tutted. “He’d better not have that terrible wasting disease from down in the valley. We don’t want to catch that sickness.”

“It’s just a cough. He’ll get better in a day or two,” the man said, his tone sharp.

“Hmm-hmm.” Maisel shook her head and vanished behind the counter again.

Retreating up the stairs, Oz frowned. A wasting disease? That sounds serious. Are we in danger?

No. Even opening a single meridian is enough to avoid any mortal illness. I have two open, Fflyn reassured him.

Well, that’s good. Oz pursed his lips, thinking. Still, something about this feels off. More off than the two innkeepers robbing passing families, that is.

He shook his head and pushed open the door to his room. A simple space greeted him, the room barely big enough for the straw mattress laid on the floor. For now, let’s get a few hours of rest before the family heads in for the night. We’re going to need it, at this rate.