"How did you do that?" Demarest snarled. "How did you get in here?"
"I let in!" Madog answered cryptically.
"By who?" Demarest snarled angrily.
"You. You open door, I walk in."
"What?" The leading mage asked, confused.
"What he means," Carlisle responded. "When you opened the door he slipped past you unseen."
"Silly mage so busy watching door he not see me walk past."
"How was that possible?" Cassandra asked. "Are all automatons that powerful?"
"Don't forget that Madog is over a thousand years old," the automaton mage explained. "He has learned a lot of tricks."
The room they were in had walls floor and ceiling of a dark stone she had never seen before. Spaced evenly along the walls were a series of alcoves and several open doorways. Everywhere she looked were runes, emblems and symbols of magic. Most she recognized and some she noted were very powerful. All were used for shielding, warding and preventing something or someone from getting past them. What truly unnerved her was that the magic was all aimed inward. These were not intended to keep people out. They were meant to keep something in!
In one of the alcoves rested a spear. It was almost casually leaning against the wall. This weapon had a shaft of gold inlaid with silver and ivory. The blades themselves were made of mithril hammered, smoothed and polished to a high glossy finish. The final addition was a red metal worked into the very point of the blades. To someone observing it the points looked as if they were covered with blood.
Cassandra's face lost its color and she pointed to the weapon. "Is that Tanach Terea?"
The head mage nodded in response. "Yes, that is City Slayer. How do you know of it?"
She took a deep breath and recovered her calm. "It is hard to not know of a weapon that's killed whole cities. I am from Ilturan which is built over the ruins of Ilturu a city destroyed by that weapon. There are still places blighted by that thing that have never healed. It's said the poison will last for a hundred thousand years."
"I cannot reveal all the details," Demarest said slowly. "But four thousand people died before the guild was able to slay its last wielder. And another forty were slain before it was finally safely placed here."
"I will admit to hearing all the tales of the weapon as a child but never did I expect to actually see it," the woman said. She had to suppress a shiver as childhood nightmares came back into her mind. "Let's get the culua and be gone from here. I'm not curious to see anything else that's here."
Demarest turned and walked along the walls of the vault pausing for a moment at some of the alcoves before coming to a stop in front of a particular one. "Here we are. Item 337."
The group clustered around the Guild master and looked at the alcove. Resting on a stone shelf was a heart shaped object about the size of a large melon. It was all of silver, gold, brass and bronze and was exquisitely decorated with a swirls, circles lines all intertwined into an intense pattern. So tightly were they interwoven that it was impossible to tell where one symbol began and another ended.
"That's it!" Carlisle said flatly. "It matches perfectly."
"Now what?" Joeline asked.
"Now you pick up the item," Carlisle said.
"I have already removed the wards placed there by the guild," was Demarest's comment. "But the culua itself has very powerful wards on it."
"Which is why it's in the vault," the automata mage added. "But if Salona's body accepted you Joeline then her Culua will as well. I sense the same wards and spells on both."
Joeline walked up to the alcove and stared at the item. The young woman took a deep breath and then calmly reached out and picked up the Culua. Nothing happened. "That was easy."
"Hardly," the guild leader said. "The last person to try and touch it was badly burned and almost died. At that point the item was moved to the vault."
Carlisle walked up to Joeline with a small, gray cloth in his hands. "This is made of the Asural and protected with automata spells. Wrap the cloth around the Culua."
The woman took the metallic cloth and carefully wrapped it around the metallic heart bunching the loose edges together in a knot. When the culua was completely covered the loose edges vanished leaving it completely covered by a cloth that was seamless.
The automaton mage smiled. "Good. That will protect it and keep anyone short of a very powerful mage from getting to the culua."
"Good," Demarest commented. "Everyone out. Let's get back to the surface."
The bright sunlight streaming in through the open doorway was a welcome sight for all of them. Eagerly they all exited the passage and stepped back into the forest. Demarest touched the upright stone column and watched as the entrance slowly lowered back to the ground and sealed shut. The earth and leaves around the stone shifted by themselves and covered the stone. In moments the stone looked as if it had never been moved and lain untouched for centuries.
"We're not alone!" Joeline said slowly.
Carlisle spun about as the words for a powerful fire spell came to mind. He spotted a large shadowy figure standing next to a tall elm tree. The wolf was staring at him with the calm detachment of a hunter choosing it's next prey. Looking around he spotted a dozen more wolves. None of the animals was moving, just standing there starring at the human intruders.
"My God!" Carlisle said in a whisper. "They're Doron wolves!"
"It's a good luck sign!" Someone said.
"It's a bad luck sign," someone else countered.
"Where's Thadius?" Azaelle asked looking around frantically.
Her question was rewarded with a loud chitter from above. Perched on top of the dolmen was the giant spider. Who happily leapt to the ground and crowded close to his owner.
"What do we do now?" Cassandra asked without taking his eyes off the ghostly figures.
"We leave," Marchel responded. "We cannot stop here. Not with the item so dangerously exposed."
Slowly and nervously the group made its way forward as the ghostly wolves walked along with them.
It was a long, slow trip home.
When the group returned all of them were quiet and Carlisle looked visibly shaken.
"What's wrong?" his wife asked.
"We saw Doron wolves," Carlisle said slowly.
"A real Doron wolf?" Gina said. Her face alive with excitement.
"An entire pack," Father Marchel said in a whisper, his eyes wide with amazement. "At least ten. They escorted us all the way from the woods to the city gates."
"They came to the city gates?" The Cardinal asked, surprised.
Marchel gave a short, sharp nod of the head in reply. "The entire city is in an uproar."
"They've never come to the city before," Gina said in awe. "They've never left the woods."
"They left the woods and followed us home," Carlisle said in a cold tone.
"What does this mean?" The high priestess asked, unnerved by the reaction of the mages. She had never heard of Doron wolves but anything that upset a mage as powerful as Demarest was something to be worried about.
The woman shook her head. "I don't know. I spent two years studying the wolves and saw only four."
"It means they are worried about this project," someone said.
"No, if they had wished to stop us using the Culua they would have attacked us," Carlisle said. "And simply taken it."
"Why is nothing involving the Guild ever easy?" The cardinal snapped.
"I have been asking that question myself for years!" The guild master commented.
A few hours later a large group was again in the meeting room. Everyone was silent as the religious leaders slowly filed into the room. The only changes from the last time they had been there was a small table erected in front of the one holding the metal body of Salona. On the new table was a cloth covered bundle.
"Thank you all for coming," Guild Master Demarest said. "Our expedition to retrieve the Culua was successful." He pointed to the cloth covered object. "It rests before you still in its protective covering."
"Was there any trouble?" The cardinal asked.
"Unexpected incidents but not trouble," was the masters reply.
"An entire pack of Doron wolves followed you back to the city?" Arstein asked.
"It did," Demarest answered in clipped tones. "But that was not part of the escort I arranged. They came on their own."
"Did they attack you?" High Priestess Delminie asked in a cold voice.
"No, they just followed us. Never interfered in any way," the mage responded.
"Why were they there?" The cardinal asked. "Protection?"
"Our best estimate at this time," Demarest said slowly and deliberately. "Is that they sensed the power of the Culua and were protecting it."
"That makes sense," Harson commented.
"What of the history of the item?" Marchel questioned. "Where was it before being brought here?"
"We believe the culua was already in the possession of Nevittia Aprontinia, one of the five founders of the guild in the year 151," Carlisle explained. "And passed into guild hands at the time of his death. In the year 405 several people studying the culua were nearly killed and it was decided to move it to the vault."
"So the item sat in the vault since that time?" Arstein asked. "All alone and untouched?"
"Yes," Demarest answered. "It was too dangerous to be touched or even approached."
"So Salona was alone all that time." The Rebuilder priest looked at the Culua. "What must it have been like being trapped in there. All alone for so long."
"I can think of no punishment harsher," the cardinal said. "Then to be trapped alone."
"Unwrap this Culua," the Lightbringer priestess pointed to the bundle of cloth. "And let us see this soul container."
Demarest looked to where Joeline was standing off to one side. He nodded his head and the young woman stepped forward. She walked up to the cloth bundle and touched it on the top. The cloth fell away revealing the beautiful metal heart.
The audience instinctively moved closer to the item for a better look.
"Not too close!" Misha ordered. "The wards on it are still active." From a pocket on his vest the fox took a small bottle and a paintbrush. "Put out your right hand please."
"Why?" Marchel asked suspiciously.
"The wards protecting the Culua are extremely deadly," Misha explained. "I am going to give you permission to touch it without being instantly killed."
"And do you have such symbols on your hand?" The rabbi asked.
"Yes," Misha answered. "They're tattooed on but the fur covers them. Along with several others that I am not sharing with you." With fast, deft and precise strokes Misha painted a series of complex symbols on the back of the man's hand.
The Lightbringer Priestess stepped forward and extended her hand. Suddenly a bolt of bright blue light shot out of the culua catching Delminie dead square in the chest and sending her tumbling to the floor.
Misha let out a loud curse and raced over to where the woman lay on the floor. Delminie slowly and unsteadily sat up. A crowd quickly gathered around her.
"Hold still!" Misha ordered. "You were really hit hard!"
"What happened to her?" Azaelle asked in nervous tones.
"The wards on Salona have never reacted this violently," Carlisle said. "Never."
"Salona doesn't like you," Madog said in a surprisingly serious tone. Then he turned and started to walk away.
Misha grabbed the metal fox by the tail and pulled him back. "No you don't. Explain what you mean by that."
"No." Madog dropped his head and tucked in his tail.
"Madog," Misha ordered in the cold, crisp tones of command. "Explain. She was almost killed."
"Salona not like her," Madog answered. "Salona not like ANY Pintia priest."
"That's understandable," one of the Rebuilder priests said. "After all we've spent the last two months talking about destroying her body and sending her to heaven or hell."
"They smash, rend and destroy everything. Others build. They destroy," Madog snapped with surprising anger.
"Same argument, different people," Valarie Delminie said calmly. The woman seemed a little unnerved but unhurt by the recent attack."They used the same arguments eight centuries ago when the emperor Crepereius declared all Automata abominations."
"This is an old argument," the Cardinal commented. "Dating back to when the first automatons were created."
"They kill my friends," Madog snarled. "They purge. Cleanse. Burn."
"Like the Burning," the Cardinal said in a pained tone.
Harson winced noticeably. "The Centli invasion, the Suielman invasion, the Elf war, the lutin invasion and finally the Burning. Why is so much of Marigund history filled with killing and burning."
"All of history is filled with it," Misha commented. "Not all of it caused by religion."
"Much of it was," Cassandra countered from her seat.
"Indeed," Arstein said slowly. "What we don't understand we try to destroy."
Delminie slowly stood up and gently touched the blacked scorch mark on her blouse. It was right over her heart. Then she looked up at the item that had caused it. "This seemed so clear and simple before. Now it's complex."
"Everything in life is complex," the cardinal commented. "It is not any man's place to decide what to do with a soul, or to even have power over another soul like this. No person has that right."
"We cannot punish those responsible for creating this," one of the Rebuilders added. "The dead are beyond us. We are left cleaning up the mess they made."
"We cannot allow this soul to remain trapped, cut off from the rest of creation," the cardinal announced.
"But also we do not have the right to destroy the culua. Our task is to help souls along to heaven," Harson added. "Not send them there personally. There has been too much death and destruction already."
"Our task is to guide souls along the right path and to help the lost souls of this world. And is there more lost a soul then hers?" Valarie pointed to where the culua was resting.
Only silence greeted her in way of answer.
The four religious leaders looked at each other. No words were needed. They all already understood the question. All the arguments and debates came down to this moment.
The cardinal nodded his head ever so gently. Rabbi Arstein, Father Harson and High priestess Delminie all nodded in agreement.
"If we allow this culua to be reunited with the body," Harson started slowly without taking his eyes off the culua. "We will closely monitor and guide her."
"When will you be ready?" the rabbi asked calmly.
Misha shrugged. "I'm not sure. This must be planned carefully. We cannot take any shortcuts."
"When we are ready," Carlisle added. "All of you will be contacted."
"You are late." Turning to the sound the woman saw a man seated at a workbench nearby.
She didn't speak but glared at him for a moment before she sat down at the table. "Do all spies work to a schedule?" She said in clipped tones.
"I don't like your attitude," he said. "You don't seem to remember the situation your sister and her family are in."
The woman stiffened. "I can never forget it. You never let me."
"Report," he said ignoring the insult.
"You were correct and we did get to visit the vault," the woman said and fell silent.
"And?"
She didn't speak but just sat there as still as stone.
"WHERE IS IT?" He snarled growing inpatient.
"Tol Doron," she snapped.
He smiled and took notes on a small piece of paper. "We've always suspected it was in Tol Doron but you've confirmed that. Now where in Tol Doron? It's a large place and we cannot go wandering around it all."
All he got in response was silence.
"Speak!" He ordered.
"I'm uneasy with revealing the location of that place. There are things there that should never see the light of day again."
"Don't make me repeat myself. Things could get unpleasant. For you and your family."
For years since coming to Marigund she had lived in fear. Forced to pass along every bit of information she had. She was terrified of what would happen to her family back in Sathmore. Finally she had found something that scared her more. "They have City Slayer."
"What?" He asked, displaying confusion for a brief moment.
The woman felt a cold resolve fill her for the first time in years. "They have Tanach Terea in the vault."
He leaned close to the woman. "Do you mean the runic weapon?"
She made a sharp nod of the head.
The color drained from the man's face. "Good lord. We never suspected they had something that dangerous. What are they doing with it?"
"Nothing," was her answer. "It's just propped up against a wall. The guild has always claimed that the vault was a storage place for dangerous magic and evidentially that's the truth."
"I do not want your opinion," the man snarled. "Just the facts and the location."
"Do you really want the location of City Slayer to become public knowledge?" The woman countered.
"That is not for you to decide," was the man's order. "I want the location of the vault and its defenses."
"No."
"Your sister's . . "
Smack! The sound of her fist as it connected with his face echoed loudly in the room. It sent him tumbling backwards over his chair and sprawling on the floor.
"No! I WILL NOT ALLOW THAT EVIL BACK INTO THE WORLD! EVER!" Her face was a bright red and her whole body was shaking with rage.
He slowly stood up rubbing his jaw as the hard, stinging pain slowly subsided. There was muscle and magic in that blow and he understood that if the woman had applied a bit more of both he would be dead. He did not know that the woman could cast magic that powerful. "We. . . " he stuttered. "The Arenul Ceen would never use that weapon. It's wholly evil."
The woman had regained her composure and looked far calmer than ever before. "Are you so sure? What will the prince say when he finds out where such a powerful weapon is? I do care for my sister and her family deeply but I am a woman of the faith. I can never forget the Great Ones teachings. and that thing runs counter to all of them. Sometimes great sacrifices are required."
"It's all academic," the man said slowly. "I'm sure that Demarest is changing the Vault's security right now. I am glad it's not in the city. At least the guild has the sense to not locate it in a populated area."
"You had best stay clear of that forest," the woman said. "It's old and powerful."
"Elvish?" The man asked.
"No, something older and more powerful still. To get to the vault you'll have to defeat whatever calls the woods home. That and the Doron wolves. I am sure the Arenul can find ways to defeat all the spells and wards guarding the vault but you will never get past the forest itself."
"They picked the location of the vault very well," was the man's comments. "Just getting to the vault entrance would be a major undertaking."
The woman smiled. "Do I sense doubt?"
The man's face hardened. "No you don't. Answer my question and describe exactly where it is."
She shook her head. "You answer MY question. What do you think Prince Balint would do if he found out where City Slayer is?"
"That is not your problem," he snarled.
"Oh yes it is!" The woman leaned forward. "I'll make you a deal. You want to know about the vault. I'll trade you that information."
"Trade it for your relatives?" He asked.
"For ALL my relatives," she answered.
"Give me the information and we'll consider it."
She turned her back to the man. "No relatives. No information." Suddenly she spun around and glared at him. "And no further negotiations."
"Now I understand where Misha got his habit of throwing a good party," Caroline said cheerfully.
The main hall of Brightleaf manor was a long, wide room with walls decorated with bright murals of rolling hills covered with beautiful and tall, majestic trees. The floor was of the finest marble laid out in beautiful flowery patterns. It was a warm summer evening and the doors to the garden were open. People moved from garden to hall and back again freely.
All of Marigund city seemed to be there as both places were filled with people dancing, talking, eating. A band played a lively tune from a second floor balcony as servants passed through the crowd offering drinks and food. In the garden a small troupe of performers entertained people by balancing and juggling various items.
Caroline found herself introduced to a seemingly endless parade of aunts, uncles, cousins, brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces. Their reactions to meeting a talking otter ranged from mildly pleasant to overly cheerful but most were friendly to one degree or another. She noticed a few people who hung back or whose smiles were clearly forced. But the Brightleaf's were too powerful a family to insult so those few acted friendly. Still they were only a tiny handful of people. She noticed many of the guests wore the ringed symbol of the Mages Guild. And all of them seemed to have questions about Metamor, the curse and the Giantdowns.
"Are they all here to meet me and Misha or just to come to a great party?" Caroline asked.
"A little of both," Elizabeth responded. "You two are the talk of the city. Especially the Automatia department at the guild causing that big trouble."
Caroline sighed and nodded. "Madog has a habit of causing a big commotion where ever he goes."
"Where is this metal fox?" Rowenna Jr. asked and looked around. "A few people have asked about him."
"I'm not sure where he is," Caroline answered. "He usually never misses a party. He's been very distracted lately."
"That's understandable with what the Automatia are doing," Elizabeth said.
"It must be like him finding a long lost sibling," the elder Rowenna commented.
"Madog is hard to understand even at the best of times," Caroline said. "But he's been even more mysterious and confusing during all of this."
"I hear you're engaged," Someone said.
Caroline extended her left hand. On her ring finger was a ring made of gold and mithril twisting into intricate patterns. It was topped by a beautiful green jewel that sparkled in the light.
There was a collective gasp from the group. "Great maker," someone whispered. "That's your engagement ring?"
Muriel examined the ring closely. A look of awe on her face. "My son gave you that? It's beautiful. It's more beautiful than anything the queen wears."
Misha never does anything by half measures," Elizabeth laughed.
"You could buy a small city with that," someone said.
"So have you set a date yet?"
"No, not yet," she answered.
"A June wedding is the best," came the advice. "A beautiful summer day. with the flowers blooming, the sun shining and the birds singing!"
"That sounds wonderful," Caroline happily.
"where are you from?" Someone asked.
"I was born and raised in Metamor Valley," Caroline explained. "My father is a master jeweler."
The woman held up her right on which was a beautiful bracelet made of gold, silver and jade. "Misha sent me this. Did he make it?"
Caroline peered at the bracelet for a moment. "Oh yes! That's Papa's work!"
The woman broke into a big smile. "That's fantastic. I love this bracelet."
Caroline nodded. "Thank you. Dad put a lot of effort into it."
"If your father is a jeweler how did you wind up as a scout?" She asked. "I thought you would follow in your fathers trade."
"My brother did but I've always loved the outdoors," she answered. "I just didn't want to stay inside all the time."
"NO! NO! Don't eat that!" Came Misha's voice over the buzz of the crowd.
"Ah! Madog has arrived!" Caroline said with a mix of humor and stress. "And he's already trying to eat something."
The younger Rowenna leaned to one side and peered off at something behind Caroline. "I see him. He seems to be trying to eat that table Aunt Valarie gave you last year Grandma."
"The expensive one, imported all the way from Elvquelin?" The elder Rowenna asked.
"Yes Grandma."
She sighed. "At least he has good taste."
"No!" Came Misha's voice, tinged with desperation. "Not the furniture."
Caroline turned to the sound of the commotion and found Misha and Madog fighting over a table leg which was no longer attached to a table. A good sized crowd was clustered around the two, watching the antics.
"Madog. Please come here and meet the family," she said cheerfully.
The foxes, both metal and flesh dropped the wooden leg and stood up straight.
Madog picked up the leg and with it in his mouth happily trotted over to the group. He dropped the leg onto the floor at Muriel's feet. "I like your furniture!"
"So I see," the elder woman said and smiled.
"Madog," Misha said solemnly. "This is Reuben and Muriel Brightleaf my parents."
The automaton fox did a deep bow to Muriel and then the Reuben. "It's a pleasure and an honor to meet you both."
Reuben bowed and Muriel curtsied. "It's a pleasure and an honor to meet you Madog," the man said.
"He's beautiful," Muriel said and smiled as she gently petted Madog's head.
"And so are you," Madog responded. He turned to Reuben. "You're lucky to have such a beautiful wife."
The elder Brightleaf put an arm around his wife and kissed. "I know that."
Suddenly Madog stopped and turned around and stared into the crowd. "Sound general quarters. All hands man your battle stations!"
Before anyone could say anything the crowd parted and a tall figure with brown hair and dressed clothing that was new but not the latest nor most expensive fashion. There was a firmness to his stride and a determined look on his face. In moments he had crossed the floor and up to Misha.
"KNAVE! VARLOT!" The man cursed and slapped Misha across the side of the face. "You have wronged my ancestor and my family's good name."
Misha rubbed the side of his face with one hand. "Who are you?"
"Sir William Thadius Borrelli," the man answered indignantly.
"Oh," Misha said slowly then fell silent.
"You don't know?" The man snarled as his face turned bright red. "You insult my ancestors honor and call him a fool and you don't bother to remember."
"Oh! Misha said with surprise. "The Lord Fool story."
The man wagged a finger at Misha barely missing his nose. "You will hear from my Second tomorrow!" Then he spun about and stormed off.
"I don't think he liked your book brother," Elizabeth said calmly.
Misha sighed. "Everyone is a critic."
It was late and the church was quiet. The place was dark and cool. The only light coming from some candles that burned up near the altar. The feeble light left the rest of the church in darkness or filled with shadows that moved about as the candle flames guttered and flickered. The room was silent except for the faint patter of rain on the windows.
A few words to the pastor had gotten Misha inside and to have to place to himself. He silently made his way up the aisle unconsciously afraid of breaking the silence of this holy place. He finally stopped in front of the tomb. Misha stared at the slab with its fake human face. A face that hadn't existed for almost eight years.
"That was a bad mistake," a voice said.
Turning to the voice he saw his father standing a few feet away. "It felt wrong but I did it anyway," he said as he walked toward his son. He stopped next to him.
"We all have regrets," Misha said slowly.
"Indeed." The elder Brightleaf touched Misha's tail. "This was never the reason for that grave."
"Then what was?" He asked in cold tones.
"That damn axe," was the man's harsh reply.
"The axe?" Misha asked, confused.
"Twice they came after us," the man explained as he looked at the tomb. "Trying to kidnap one of the family to hold for ransom."
Misha sighed and shook his head slowly. "And the ransom would have been the axe."
Reuben slowly nodded his head. "But with you dead everyone assumed the axe was lost. Especially since rumors started that the axe was sighted up north. Did they come after you there?"
"No," Misha answered. "Evidently the fear of the curse was bigger than their greed for the axe."
"That's ironic," Reuben said with a wry smile. "That curse saved us all a lot of pain."
"Two hundred thousand lutins have been trying to kill me but not over the axe," Misha said. "The lutins don't want the axe. Said so several times."
"The lutins don't want it?" The elder said, surprised. "And people call them stupid monsters."
"The Lutins are many things but not stupid," Misha responded. "I have respect for their toughness and endurance. They are survivors. They're too smart to want anything to do with Whisper."
"You haven't brought it here have you?" The man asked with a tinge of nervousness in his voice.
"No," Misha said with the shake of the head. "It's in a safe place but I can summon her if needed."
"Hopefully you won't need it."
"She's been both a blessing and a curse to me," Misha said honestly.
"To the whole family," the elder responded.
Misha sighed. "I think my time with her is winding down. I think she is due to rest for a few years before someone else takes her up."
"I wish Grandpa had never brought it back from the north," Reuben said coldly.
"Did he ever tell how he found her?" Misha asked.
"Repeatedly," Reuben answered and laughed. "But he never told the same story twice. Hasn't she told you? After all you've written a book on her."
"No. I've seen a lot of her history but not her time with Great Grandpa," Misha paused. His ear perked up. "Wait. You read my book?"
"Both of them," Reuben explained. "And enjoyed them both. You're a good writer."
Misha stiffened and wagged his tail. Then he wrapped his arms around his father and hugged him tightly. "Thank you Dad."
"What will you do about that challenge?" The elder asked.
Misha shrugged. "I'm not sure. It's been a long time since I've been challenged to a duel. Have the rules changed?"
Reuben shook his head in answer. "No. Such things are allowed but it's considered impolite to do more than just draw blood."
"That's fine," Misha said slowly as he sat down in a pew. "I'm tired of killing people."
Breakfast was always a big event in the Brightleaf family. The day started early; around dawn. with everyone assembled in the family dining room. With so many people in such a small room things got tight but it made the meals more intimate and warm. Eggs, bacon, lamb, and a thick porridge of lamb and grain called ganal were served with bread (both fresh and toasted) and covered with jam and butter. All of this was washed down with tea, cider and a new drink called coffee. Many were still feeling the after effects of the party and were eating light.
Misha and Caroline were seated together enjoying the meal and the conversation with family when a young girl walked up to the table and stood next to him.
"Misha," the servant said politely. "There is a man here to speak with you. He says it's about a debt of honor."
Misha put down his fork and sighed loudly. "I must be getting old. I'm getting seriously tired of honor bound fools."
"To be fair you really did insult his ancestor pretty harshly in that story," Verner commented.
"It's all the truth!" the fox countered.
"That only makes it worse," someone answered.
Misha turned to the servant. "I'll be there in a minute. Thank you."
The man that was waiting in the small parlor was well dressed. He had changed his clothes but it was clearly the same person as last night. When Misha entered the room he turned and stared at Misha. "Well?" He asked angrily.
"Tomorrow at noon," Misha responded simply. "At the dueling field."
"And with what do you wish to duel?" The man asked.
"Staves," Misha answered. "First one unconscious or unable to continue looses."
"No axes?" The man asked sarcastically.
"This is supposed to be an honorable duel," Misha countered. "No bloodshed. Unless what you want is really after is the axe and not honor."
"The axe means nothing to me," the man replied.
Misha didn't speak for a moment but just stared at the man with a surprising intensity. He seemed to be trying to look into the man's soul. Then his whole stance relaxed and he wagged his tail. "Good. You are an honorable man."
"My honor is what you defamed," the man snapped.
"No, what I defamed was a man who has been dead for over a century," Misha responded.
"Honor must be satisfied."
The location was an open field located outside the city walls. In the centuries before the collapse of the empire it had been a small plaza in a crowded neighborhood. Once surrounded by tall buildings it was now just a large stone platform surrounded by empty fields. The only inhabitants were sheep and the occasional traveler too miserly to rent a room in the modern city. The platform was of good stone blocks still closely set and firm in spite of centuries of weathering and the destruction of the city around it. It made an excellent platform for a duel.
The rules of the duel were clear. The two duelists were each allowed one staff or stave made of pine or cedar to be exactly five feet long. Each was to be wearing a cloth shirt and pants of wool and nothing else. Padding in the clothes was optional; to be agreed upon by both sides. They were to be exactly six feet apart at the start. The duel would start with the obligatory verbal exchange allowing one last chance to avoid the actual fight. What happened after that was simple - they whacked at each other with the sticks till one was unconscious or both had had enough.
William Borrelli was standing on the north edge of the platform some twenty feet from Misha. Both were wearing a white wool shirt and pants and carrying a wooden stave that was four feet long.
Standing between them was a tall, well dressed, black haired man who had a sour look on his fair. He looked as if he would rather be anywhere else but here. Feron Arswile had a lot of tasks to perform as a clerk for the city of Marigund and being a judge of legal duels was one of them. "Are the two contestants ready?"
"Yes!" The man answered.
Misha nodded his head. "I am ready."
"I will ask both of you if there is a chance to end this peacefully," Feron asked as he looked from one to the other.
Misha pointed to his opponent. "Ask him. I never wanted to be here to begin with."
He scowled at the fox. "Again you are defaming an innocent man."
"Who challenged who?" Misha responded simply.
"YOU DEFAMED MY ANCESTOR!"
"Who has been dead for a century," Misha countered. "Can't we just let the dead rest in peace?"
"You should have thought of that BEFORE you wrote that story."
"And you could have replied to one of the four letters I sent asking about him," Misha answered.
William moved towards Misha his staff already swinging. "Enough talk."
Misha brought up his staff and deflected the blow. Then he spun the bottom of his staff aiming it at Borrelli's legs. His opponent easily dodged the attack with some deft footwork.
For several minutes there was no talking, and the only sounds the two made were the grunts and groans as they battled back and forth. Their sticks clacked and clattered as they hit each other.
"I want to know the truth about what happened back then," William snarled as he attacked again.
Misha blocked the blow and swung his own staff at the man's legs. "What makes you think we know any more then you do?"
"You must know what happened," William said as he lunged at the fox.
"No we don't," Misha answered frankly as he blocked his opponents attack.
"How can you not know?" William asked. "There were over two hundred people with them. Someone else must have left a record."
"Evidently none of them could read or write," Misha jabbed straight at his opponent with the end of his staff. The fire hardened end slammed into Williams stomach. The man tumbled to the ground with a loud grunt and his stick clattered to the pavement, just out of reach.
Rather than move in and finish the fight Misha took a step back. "How long are we going to keep doing this?" He snarled in an annoyed tone.
The man reached out for his weapon. "Until honor is satisfied."
"And when will that be?"
The man actually paused for a moment and gazed at Misha with a surprised look.
Misha reached out with his own staff and sent William's skittering across the pavement, way beyond reach. Then he lowered his staff. "How about this. What if I amend the story?"
"How can you amend what's already in print?" The man asked.
"I'm in the midst of a second book, 'More Tales of the Northland,' it's sure to sell even more copies than the first one."
"And I'm supposed to believe that you would do this?" The man asked suspiciously as he slowly stood up.
"If I wasn't an honorable man I wouldn't have shown up for this duel," Misha responded. "Or I would have cheated. Or perhaps you'd like to keep bashing away at each other."
Caroline pointed a finger at William. "What DO you want? What do you want from all this?"
William paused and stood still for a moment. "I want the truth known to all."
"Sometimes the truth hurts," Misha said. "Our ancestors were intertwined and so it seems are we. I promise you we'll find the truth, where ever it leads us. There are liable to be unpleasant discoveries for us both. Are you ready for that?"
"I will go wherever the truth leads me," came the man's determined answer.
"Fair enough."
Muriel, Rueben , Caroline and Misha were seated in a small drawing room in a quiet section of the house.
"Is it wise to go delving into our ancestors past?" Rueben asked.
"No," Misha responded honestly. He sighed and rubbed his left arm, where William had landed a hard blow earlier that day. "Family, the Guild, Madog and the automatons," he said. "Those I was expecting trouble from. But I never expected problems from a story I published over a year ago."
"The past has a habit of reaching out to the present day," Muriel said.
"What do you know of the original Misha and the axe?" Caroline asked. "I mean the truth and not the bed time stories."
"Little," Reuben said honestly. "Grandpa hid the facts about what happened and we never really investigated too deeply. There must have been a reason he wanted to keep it hidden."
"Every family has their secrets," Muriel said. "And Grandpa Misha is ours."
"We literally know nothing about that part of his life," the elder, male Brightleaf said. "He left no records of any sort, not even some vague clue carved into stone like in some mystery tale."
"What we do know is that he rescued a large number of people from the Giantdowns," Muriel added. "And was knighted for his courage and ingenious thinking."
"I don't even know where to begin looking for information," the fox said. "I've read through everything here in Marigund about it back when I was a child."
"The answer is in the Giantdowns and at Metamor," Muriel said. "Here in Marigund we only have one part of the story. Someone up north MUST know the other side of the tale."
Misha had a distant look in his eyes for a moment. "Indeed." Then he nodded. and looked straight at his parents. "Tomorrow the guild is going to be reactivating that automaton. I'd like it if you both were there."
Reuben smiled. "We'd be honored."
They were not contacted for three weeks. When it did finally arrive the message was brief and blunt. "Be at the Guild hall tomorrow by 4:55am. Expect to be occupied for the entire day and out of contact. Tell no one what you are doing or where you are going."
There are quiet times, times when even a city the size of Marigund sleeps. The complex clock in one of the towers of the Menomenta Gul that ticked away the hours had just finished chiming four am. The streets of Marigund was quiet at this hour. The drunks and revelers of the night before had all found some place to sleep and it was far too early for even the workers who greeted the dawn each day. The only thing moving about were a trio of heavily cloaked figures who made their way down the street. The group had come by a circuitous route that now took them to one of the countless small doors leading into the Mages Guild's headquarters. The high priestess hated such covert maneuvers dismissing them as unnecessary theatrics but in this case she understood the need for them. Some things are best left secret. High priestess Delminie knocked twice on the wooden door.
The door opened, revealing a man dressed in full armor. One hand he used to hold open the door, the other held a drawn sword. The soldier nodded and sheathed the blade. Without a word he gestured the new arrivals inside. When the door was closed behind them a light blossomed revealing the small room they were standing in.
"Welcome High priestess Delminie," the soldier said. "Please come this way. You're expected."
They were taken through a maze of corridors and hallways and finally up a long flight of stairs that ended in a door sheathed in metal. Once through that door they found themselves in front of another door and behind that was yet another door. The group passed through that door and Delminie found herself in a room far different than she had been before. This one was twenty feet by twenty feet and only bare stone. In the center of the room was a table made of steel upon which rested the automaton called Salona. The dozen wooden chairs arraigned around the table were filled with people, all of whom Delminie recognized from the last time she had seen the automaton.
Clustered around the table was Guild Master Demarest, Carlisle and several other members of the Guilds Automata department. With them was Misha and the otter woman Caroline. Perched on the end of the table was Madog. The metal fox was surprisingly quiet and still paying no heed to the new arrivals. His eyes never strayed from the still form of Salona.
Standing off to one side were three people. A woman of middle age with slightly graying hair down to her shoulders. The deep burgundy dress she was wearing had only one decoration, the tightly interlocked rings that were the Mages Guild emblem done in gold.
Standing next to the woman was an elderly gentleman who held the hand of a woman equal to him in age. The older couple was unknown to her. By the look and bearing they were people of some wealth and determination.
Delminie pointed to the three. "Who are they? The younger woman I recognize as a guild mage."
Torrey peered at the two for a moment. "That is Lady Elizabeth Lumas and Lord and Lady Brightleaf. Misha's sister and parents.
"Misha's parents?" Delminie asked, surprised.
"Yes," Torrey responded in a confused tone. "It never occurred to you he might have family?"
"I did not know he was from Marigund itself," the high priestess explained.
"An old family," the priest added. "They are big merchants in the sheep and wool trade. The rumors have it that Misha's great grandfather discovered a fabulous treasure up in the Giantdowns and came back to Marigund to live."
Delminie shook her head. "I've heard THAT tale said about all the big families at one time or another."
The priest shrugged. "What I do know is that he brought that massive, black axe back with him. And it's been in the family since then."
Carlisle walked up to the table and took a deep breath. "Thank you for coming. I cannot over emphasize just how deadly what we are attempting is. We're about to attempt what has not been done in over a thousand years. If events go wrong the damage should be limited to the top, four floors of the tower." The mage turned to Misha. "Are you ready?"
"Yes," the fox man said as he walked to stand with Carlisle. He looked at the assembled mages clustered around the table. "We've discussed and planned this. But there is no way to tell how this will go. Endure it as long as possible but when you feel yourself slipping break the connection and back away."
Carlisle turned to the assembled audience. "Do not approach us once we've begun. We are working with very deadly magic."
The mages clustered close around the table until Salona was no longer visible. After a moment Marchel became aware of a feeling in the air as if it was charged electricity. He was reminded of how it felt during a lightning storm when the very air was filled with the power of the storm. He felt the hairs on his arm standing on end. A soft glow suddenly covered Misha's body and quickly spread to all of the mages.
The room was as silent as a tomb while the mages worked on the feline. The hours passed slowly and no one was sure what time it was. To Marchel the beating of his own heart was like a loud drum booming across a mountain side. Could everyone hear it? Were they hearing it and just ignoring it out of politeness? Some people sat still, while others got up and walked around. One took out a bag and started quietly eating an apple.
Through it all Madog stood as still as a statue. Watching over the process like the gargoyles that glowered down from above the Gargoyle gate leading into the city.
Suddenly Joeline let out a cry, staggered backwards and collapsed to the floor. A dozen people rushed over but Caroline got to the woman first. Second to the prostrate woman was the healer. They stretched the woman out carefully and began to examine her with the skilled movements of a professional healer.
"What's wrong with her?" The cardinal asked keeping his distance and allowing the healer to use her skills.
"Exhaustion," Caroline responded instantly. "Working the magic is very tiring."
"Are you a mage as well?" The rabbi asked.
"No, but I've seen Misha work it enough to know what happens."
"How long will this take?" Marchel asked.
Caroline shrugged. "No way to know but probably all day at the least."
The hours seemed to drag by, each second taking a lifetime. One by one the other mages began to drop out. Some collapsing to the floor where they stood and some managing a few steps backwards first. Finally only Carlisle and Misha remained still intently working.
The glow around them and the table grew in intensity until Marchel had to squint. Then suddenly the glow vanished like a candle being snuffed out. It took a moment to get used to the darkness after the bright light. The priest could see Misha and Carlisle both sprawled on the floor.
Caroline reached Misha in moments and with surprising strength lifted her lover off the floor and gently placed him in a chair. "Misha!" She cried.
Misha looked up at Caroline and weakly wagged his tail. She hugged him tightly and tenderly kissed him. Next to the otter and the fox Gina was tendering to her husband. Carlisle looked to be in no better shape the Misha.
"Are they all right?" One of the Rebuilders asked.
"We'll be fine," Carlisle answered. "Just exhausted."
Misha gave a weak wave of his hand. "It was far harder than I expected."
The cardinal smiled. "I am glad you both survived. Did you succeed?"
"Yes," both mage and fox answered in unison.
All eyes turned to Salona. The metal feline was resting in the same place as before but to Marchel she seemed different. Before it had always looked like an inanimate metal statue devoid of life. But now she felt alive. He peered carefully at her trying to explain why she was different. His eyes saw no change but in his heart and mind he felt a difference.
To Marchel it seemed like forever as the sabertooth just lay there unmoving. The room was utterly silent. No one moved or spoke; waiting for any sign from Salona. None of them was sure what she would do. Would she attack them all instantly? Perhaps she would try and flee? Perhaps she'd do nothing at all. What happens to a soul left alone for over 600 years?
Click! The sound was soft and slightly muffled like it was coming from deep within the automaton.
Slowly the left ear spun about lazily. Then the right ear moved. The two ears flicked about for a moment. The eyes fluttered and then opened wide. Then the massive, metal cat stood up. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn revealing a set of impressively large, sharp teeth. She stretched each of her legs slowly and deliberately. Marchel was reminded of Sprinkles, his own house cat.
"Does she know we're here?" Joeline asked nervously.
The massive, metal head snapped around in the girl's direction and those metal eyes widened with surprise.
"She does now," Misha muttered as his hands tightened their grip on his axe. "No one move."
"She's undoubtedly very confused," Carlisle said speaking softly.
Slowly the metal Smilodon looked at each of the people in the room. Her head moving and her eyes missing not the smallest detail of each one.
"Irtul fuw shun tulano," the feline said in a deep, growling voice.
"Anyone speak old Suiel?" Misha asked slowly.