Her mother had been less than impressed with her plan. But, after a decade of war, a decade of their people suffering, a decade of never-ending toil, pain, and death, Ellessa was determined. She'd spent a good portion of her life haunting Tacea's libraries, ruins, and catacombs, gathering research and information which would, so she prayed, lead her and her family to something, anything, which would turn the tide of this senseless struggle that had nearly brought her entire homeland to its knees.
There was no reasoning with the Emperor now. His armies had rolled over the continent like a glacier, smothering everything in their path and claiming what chanced to remain for his gluttonous greed. He styled himself a conqueror, but in reality he was nothing more than a hungry slug, more than willing to devour all which dared stand in his way. But Tacea had stood. Queen Aelan Zallende had been unwilling to stand aside and let the Mad Tyrant take her land, enslave her people, and crush her kingdom beneath a ruthless rule.
Taceans were hardly warriors, but they were fervent, and the Queen herself carried a powerful magic in her blood, strong enough to grind their enemy to a grueling, and costly, halt. But it wasn't enough. Little by little, the Imperial armies were gaining ground, and time was running out. Having grown up in the center of this conflict, Ellessa, youngest child and matriarchal heir of Tacea's throne, had been just as determined as the rest of her family to see this turmoil brought to a halt. If a political solution wasn't an option, then they would have to seek elsewhere.
And, after several long years of piecing legends together and unraveling mysteries, she'd found something.
"But it's true!" she insisted, pacing after her mother in the command tent, waving the sheets of parchment. "Look! I swear to you, the inscription's right here, and I've cross-referenced it with several other ancient sources. They all say the same thing!"
"Enough!" Aelan's voice was sharp as it sliced through the heavy air. "I will not allow you to go gallivanting off into the wilds chasing some...fairy tale, Ellessa. I simply will not."
The princess wasn't about to let it go. She was her mother's daughter, after all. "But it's a chance, Mother. A chance. What else have we got to lose?" Hathevar, Aelan's husband and father of her children, watched in silence. "If we can do this, if we can tame them, then we will be able to break this deadlock and drive the Imperials out of Tacea, and this entire part of the continent, forever, Mother!"
Aelan seemed to consider it for a moment, but then scoffed and threw her hands. "Foolishness! I'll hear no more talk about 'taming dragons' from you, Ellessa. I forbid it and that's the end of it!" She speared her daughter with a hard gaze. "Do you understand?"
Taken aback at her mother's vehemence, Ellessa ran down and gradually lowered her eyes and her hands. "...yes, your Majesty." She heard her father clear his throat, and saw him quietly leave the tent out of the corner of her eye. "I...understand."
Joric sat alone in his tent to sharpen his sword with a whetstone. Naturally the army had people to care for the soldiers' weapons, but in his native land of Fjelldalr their army had simply been issued whetstones so they could do the task themselves. The rhythmic sound soothed that magical fire in his veins that always threatened to spring up uninvited and he often needed these sorts of things to distract him from his unfortunate situation. Outside his tent he could hear the soldiers gathered around the fire laughing and telling stories. He had been like that once. But now he felt it better to keep people at a distance, just in case.
His solitude was interrupted by Hathevar entering his tent. Surprised, Joric set his sword aside and gave the man his full attention. When he'd asked to join this foreign army, it was Hathevar he'd had to answer to and had to explain why a man from the loose kingdom of mountain clans chose not to fight for them instead. And Joric had told the truth. He was always honest because only cowards needed to lie. An honest man could deal with the consequences of the truth, whatever they might be. He'd told of the army's mages; of their experiments and how they couldn't reverse his rage, so he'd left before they did worse to him. And so Joric had been searching for a cure while knowing it would take more magic to do it. He told him of the calming potion he was dependent on to hold the rage down, but how it was losing its effectiveness. He'd promised to leave the army should it become too much. Besides, he was only here to get some money before he moved on again. It was a neat little arrangement for the time being and Joric had thrown himself into battle as faithfully as any Tacean. But he couldn't account for why Hathevar would come to see him now.
"There's an important task that I think you just might be the man for," Hathevar said without a greeting. Having no reason not to hear the man out, Joric nodded.
"And what is that," he asked, moving to put his supplies away and wipe down his sword to remove the residue the whetstone left behind.
"Something that could change the tide of this war. And in return, there may be someone powerful enough to help you too."
Gray eyes narrowed suspiciously. How was it a person with that kind of skill was only discovered now? Had someone new entered the camp? It would be easy to be cynical and dismiss the whole idea, but what was Joric searching for if not to have hope that there was a cure for this?
"Follow me. I'll explain on the way." And with that Hathevar gestured out the front of the tent. Without much hesitation, Joric rose from his seat and sheathed his sword to follow, curious as to what was about to be revealed to him.
In a similarly hued, but definitely smaller camp tent, Ellessa had resumed her pacing, frowning at nothing and muttering some choice soldier's curses under her breath. She abruptly ceased when the flap lifted and her father ducked inside, followed by a similar-sized giant, definitely not one of the more refined Tacean soldiers.
"Ellessa," Hathevar nodded, greeting his daughter as was proper.
"Father," she returned in kind, giving the newcomer a speculative glance along with a lifted eyebrow.
"My daughter," she then heard Hathevar say to his companion, "Princess Ellessa Alivassa Zallende of Tacea, heir to Aelan, Queen of Tacea." To her, Hathevar said, "Elle, this is Joric, a seasoned veteran, and someone I think will suit you well."
The Regent then continued, saying to the Northman, "Joric, the princess will be heading out on a long, rough journey, and will need an escort of the rough-and-ready sort. She's a fair hand with magic, and a damned good healer, if a little young yet." Elle glowered at her father. Ignoring her, Hathevar went on.
"If you can get her to her destination and back again alive and relatively unharmed, then not only will we have a bitch of a chance to actually end this war, but Tacea will owe you a massive debt, which the Queen would repay by working on a cure for your...problem."
The revealed plan left a look of clear surprise crossing Joric's face. An escort mission? Babysitting a mage? Or whatever they were called in this country. And whatever she was called. Back home they all just have one name, or they add So-and-So's-son at the end. He'd already forgotten everything after Ellessa because it hadn't seemed important.
"I've heard the Queen is powerful in magic," he admitted, weighing his options here. He should find out what exactly was the goal of her journey and how long she estimated it would take. And perhaps most important of all...
"Are you sure you want me to go with her when I have my... problem?" He spared her a glance. A magical healer. The mages back home had assigned him a healer to temporarily cure his rage. Could this princess do the same? "Or could she hold it back?" Now he took a step forward, curious as to her skills and if this trip would be possible after all. If the end goal was getting her to what she needed to end the war and that in turn got him the Queen's magic to cure him, how could he refuse? This might be his only chance. He could be free from these magical shackles that were holding back the real him and trying to replace him with a monster.
"I can escort you," he said. "I'm used to the wilds, living off the land, and fighting in all kinds of conditions." His jaw tensed a moment as he knew he would have to tell her everything before setting off alone with her. "But you need to know that I have an evil magic put on me. It makes me a more deadly berserker, but I have little control over it when it feels like taking over. If you can heal that magic when it crops up, then you'll be fine, but if you don't think you can, then you best find someone else." He didn't want her to find someone else. He wanted this favor so he could get his cure, but he wasn't some crazed man who enjoyed slaughter. He protected those who couldn't protect themselves, or at least that was always his goal. Now that he blacked out during rage episodes, it wasn't about protecting anymore. It was about destroying everything in his path. And the princess needed to know what he was capable of before she made her decision.
Ellessa listened with growing trepidation; what in all seven hells was her father trying to get her into? But at least the Northman was candid in his revelation, which was something, in any case. Her brow furrowed when he explained his condition, and, her father forgotten for the moment, the princess stepped over, gazing at him a little critically .
"An 'evil magic'?" she echoed, unabashed in taking one of his arms and holding it out curiously. "I've never heard of such an enchantment." Elle dropped Joric's arm and paced about behind him, looking this barbarian up and down. Blue eyes were speculative, her fine features concentrated. "You certainly have the look of a battle-hardened savage, I'll grant." Coming around him, she speared her father with another look, then looked back at the barbarian.
"My mother is a powerful sorceress," she stated. "I'm certain she could find a way to end this affliction, if we survive our mission. As for the duration..." she paused, bit her lip, a little uncertain. "Well, I suppose I would have to try to calm you during one of your...'fits', but there are several staunch potions I can brew in the meantime, which would leave you unconscious for a time. Would that be acceptable?"
It was unfortunate how little it surprised him anymore that a mage looked at him like he was a puzzle to figure out, a project to complete, an experiment to ruin. He stayed still as she examined and circled around him. His nostrils flaring were really the only indication that he didn't appreciate it. But it was far from enough to set off an episode. In battle the change came quickly, like a lever being pulled, but outside of combat the irritation built up into anger, leaving physical symptoms that had him reaching for his potion to control it. Her words weren't even close to angering him.
"The Fjelldalr army's mages did it," he answered. "But seeing how the country's a confederation of clans, I cannot tell you which clan taught their mages to put this kind of spell on a person, or how to reverse it." It had occurred to him that maybe the army didn't want him to lose his rage because it made him the perfect weapon, but the mages had seemed adamant that he was a danger to the rest of their troops if they couldn't finesse their magic to better control how he used his rage. Hence the mage healer. It had been a bandage on the wound while they did more fruitless experiments on him. "I just know it wasn't mine." Up in the mountains the Northmen lived in semi-isolated clans until they traded women during festivals to keep the bloodlines clean. Nations had tried to invade time and time again, but the barbarians knew the land better and always prevailed. The only reason they were united as a country was to keep consistent laws about trade and to keep a standing army to better defend their mountains. It also meant the army was full of people from all across the North whose clans could be very different.
This trip with her was a risk, but something told him she could control him. Maybe it was that critical look in her eye, or the way she studied him. Maybe it was the notes and books he noticed here in her tent. Maybe it was the praise of her father. Whatever the reason, he wasn't a man to risk an innocent's safety, yet he could tell somehow that she had this covered.
"Whatever you need to do. As long as you wouldn't be defenseless while I'm unconscious."
Hathevar chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Hardly that. My girl here's a fair hand with fire and ice spells, and she knows how to use a dagger, if it comes to that." Elle hesitated slightly, but didn't gainsay her father, because her offensive magic wasn't quite as strong as her healing skills, but this giant didn't really need to know that, now did he?
"Yes," she heard herself say, bustling around her tent and shoving things in a satchel, "I know how to handle myself, Ser Joric, you needn't worry on that score." To her father, she said, "Are the horses ready? And have you made the arrangements at the gate? I'd rather not run right into Aedan's guardsmen and have him go running straight to Mother."
"Don't worry about your brother," Hathevar told her, hand resting idly on his sword hilt. "I've replaced his men with my own, so they'll allow you right through. There's a supply caravan leaving in an hour, heading for Medalia, so it'll be best if the two of you ride in one of the wagons until you reach the village. I've arranged for horses and supplies to await you there."
"Perfect. Thank you, Father." She paused in her peregrinations to kiss her father's grizzled cheek, then turned back to the large Northman. "Well, Northman? Are you game for this adventure? We'll be heading to the Frostbacks," all the way across the continent, more than a thousand leagues, nearly a five month journey, "to recover a very ancient, very powerful, artifact, one that could save my people and end this miserable war."
Joric crossed his arms and then lifted a hand to idly stroke his beard as he listened to the conversation between father and daughter. It was all set up neatly and it seemed there was very little for him to do beyond be her sword arm should she need it. However, the destination gave him pause. It was a great distance to go, which meant more time for the damn spell inside him to take tighter hold and slowly erode the decent parts of him. Unless she could help hold it back and keep him as himself for long enough for the Queen to form a plan.
There were a lot of what ifs involved here. What if they traveled all that way and the artifact wasn't even there? Or what if it was, but it didn't work the way they needed it to? And what if there wasn't enough of him left to save by the time they got back? Exhaling a sigh through his nose, he nodded at her question. This was probably the only hope he had, and he supposed the only hope Tacea had too.
"It seems like what's needed, so I'll help you recover it." Simple as that. He wasn't one for big speeches when a few words would do. His eyes traveled towards Hathevar. "And there'll be plenty of time for the Queen to figure out how to cure me." Looking back towards the princess, he added, "Let me pack my things and I'll be right back. Maybe you can explain a bit more about this artifact when I get back, since we'll be waiting on the supply wagon to leave."
It didn't show, but Ellessa felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders when the Northman agreed to this insane plan of hers. She exhaled a breath of relief, and nodded thankfully, saying, "Thank you, Ser Joric. But please, meet me at the caravan. It won't look well, the two of us strolling through camp with our packs on our backs. And I still need to procure a few things from the healing tent, so I shall meet you there in half an hour."
She shoved another small leather book in her pack, then paused. "I'll explain everything on the way to Medalia, promise. But for now, haste is required, and a good bit of stealth and misdirection." At the last, the princess glanced at her father, who bowed and nodded in return, taking his leave to perform his part in this little chicanery.
Elle went back to packing, saying over her shoulder, "Hurry. And I'll meet you there soon."
He'd have to remember to tell her not to bother with Ser. He was a simple soldier and not someone who needed a title. But it seemed like a lot was riding on them escaping the camp quickly and quietly, so now was not the time to bring up frivolous things.
"As you say," he replied before leaving the tent, following closely behind Hathevar and taking a few long strides to walk next to him.
"The queen doesn't know," he pointed out as they moved. "Are you sure she'll help me? She might want to execute me instead for taking off with your daughter for months on end."
Hathevar merely laughed as if it was of no concern. "You leave her to me. Now, you have a wagon to catch." Joric frowned, but nodded and offered the man his hand for a farewell shake. This plan seemed more desperate by the minute, but what was he, if not a desperate man? Hathevar shook his hand, clapped him on his shoulder, and set him on his way. Packing was easy. Joric owned so few possessions that there was nothing to leave behind. A few change of clothes, his sword, hunting knife, and a small hatchet were the main items, and a fur lined cloak, though he rarely needed it. Northmen blood ran hot and they often wore sleeveless shirts out in the snow. However, the Frostbacks were a colder place than his mountain homeland, so it was best to assume the worst.
Within minutes he was out at the appointed meeting place, hand on the hilt of his sword and pack on his back. He wasn't sure what lie in their path ahead, but he was skilled at camping and making use of what was out in the world around him. He wasn't sure what experience she had with that sort of thing. Seeing how she had a tent out here in the soldier's camp, it wasn't all cozy four poster beds and silk dressing gowns for her. That was a start.
The caravan master thumped over, grunted up at the tall Northman, and wordlessly held up the canvas flap on the nearmost wagon, gesturing with his cudgel. Not two minutes later, a somewhat breathless princess appeared, not even hesitating to crawl under the canvas and make a nest amid the supplies in the wagon bed.
She'd brought three packs with her, one for clothing, another for spell books and ingredients, and the other for what food she could carry with her. She'd traded her finer royal garments for sensible traveling clothes; tunic and leggings of hardy fabrics, sturdy boots, and a thick woolen overcoat that fell nearly to her knees. She was hardly a simpering maiden needing to be rescued by the nearest knight, after all.
"Well," she said equably once the train began to slowly make its way out of the encampment, "here's to a fortuitous journey and uneventful travels. May we be swift and silent, and all that."
He got in and tried to find a comfortable way to sit, but with his size it just wasn't happening. There was a crate digging into one side of him and something metallic rattling next to his ear. That would get annoying fast. Never mind his legs were stretched out as far as they were able and it still wasn't enough room, leaving his ankle turned at an odd angle. By the gods, but the trip to town had better be quick.
Eyes glanced over the princess as she entered before falling on her burdens. He released a sigh, but knowing there were horses awaiting them meant at least he didn't have to be her pack mule too. At least she was dressed sensibly as well.
"Aye," he replied, trying to adjust how he sat as the wagon began to move and that rattling sound became louder. To make matters worse, the driver of the wagon started to sing off key, and Joric glared at the man's back, feeling a quick burst of pressure behind his eyes. Oh, great, now this? This was how the rage liked to start. Little irritants would build and build and would lead to far worse unless he contained it. He had a few potion bottles, but they were packed away at the moment.
"How do you do your healing?" he asked. "Last healer I had assigned to me had to touch my skin."
Well, it was now or never. Ellessa squirmed around, herself, wedged between a box of cabbages and her satchels. "I typically touch the patient, then work the magic through me and into him. It's a little more...intimate than just throwing out a hex and hoping it hits its mark, but at least I know that the magic's working; I can feel it repairing what's broken inside."
It was hard to explain, really, and she'd never been the best at self-analyzation. "Let's see if it's going to work, with you. If I may?" She hovered her hand lightly over his forearm, then gently lowered it until it rested on his skin, warm and quiet. Ellessa closed her eyes and let her magic work, a slow warmth seeping into Joric's body through that simple touch. It was calming, quiet, and comforting, like a woolen blanket against a snowy mountain morning.
"...how do you feel?" she softly inquired, not wanting to break the spell despite the less-than-ideal surroundings. "Better?"
What's broken inside. He nearly laughed, because what wasn't broken inside of him right now? But he restrained himself and let her work, noting that it felt similar to the magical healing he'd had before. Similar, but with a difference too. It felt... gentler somehow. Like she was pouring something else into him beyond just the calming part. He could recognize it was something, but couldn't put the word "comfort" on it. Still, it worked. The pressure lessened quickly before evaporating completely.
"Mm," he hummed. "Aye." It had worked well. Quickly and efficiently. Her father was right when he spoke of her talent. Of course, Joric had caught it right as it started this time. In the future the episodes might be more intense.
"Can you feel what's wrong with me?" he added a moment later. "Or can you only feel that you're doing the repairing?" It was bad enough that he had to feel it, so he hoped she couldn't feel the fire building within him too.
She exhaled another sigh of relief when he affirmed what she'd hoped. "Good," she said on a released breath, sitting back again. When he asked his questions, however, she frowned in thought, considering.
"Not...exactly, but then I wasn't really looking, either. It's possible, I suppose, given a bit of time and examination." Her lips quirked, and she shook her head lightly. "My mother could, I have no doubt. Her magic is so much more powerful than mine."
Elle paused for a moment, thinking it over. "We will work on it," she promised. "As we travel. Familiarity will help, too. Which is why families usually have one healer somewhere in their lineage. And now that I know you are sensitive to this particular magic, I can brew a few tonics along the same lines that will hopefully have the same effect."
He was counting on her mother's magic being as powerful as possible, though even he had to admit to a bit of trepidation at the prospect of her working to remove this magic. There was always the possibility she could make things worse and increase the rage, or in trying to remove it she could leave him a drooling mess. But this was no way for a man to live and he'd have to take the risk.
"Right. I have a few in my bag, but you'd probably know the best ingredients. I just use what an alchemist recommended. It's losing its effectiveness the more I take it too." Which meant the magical healing would become even more important the further along they went in their journey.
The driver hit another off key note and Joric glared at him a moment before turning back. Thank the gods she was here, or else people would come upon an abandoned cart in the middle of the road with a bloody stain where the driver had once been.
"What kind of familiarity? Just being in each other's presence?" He was hoping she didn't mean sharing their life stories or anything.
"More or less, yes. Just sharing life experience, as one might with a sibling, that sort of thing. We become accustomed to the other's presence, therefore it doesn't come as a shock when magic is performed between us. Magic can..." she groped for a way to explain it. "...it can affect us in other ways than just the physical. Particularly when one is muddling about inside of another, so to speak."
The wagon hit a small rock, bounced, and Elle yelped, rubbing her elbow where it'd banged against a crate. "Would that we'd had another, less painful way out of the camp!" she hissed, but kept it to a minimum; she knew her father had done what he could to get her out without a squabble.
"...just so you're aware," she finally admitted, a miniscule thread of sheepishness coloring her tone, "my mother didn't exactly approve of this jaunt. Forbade it flat, in point of fact." She laughed humorlessly. "But," Elle said then, her tone becoming firm once more, "I have to do what I believe is necessary, my mother's blessing or not." Then her expression fell a bit, became melancholy. "...I just wish it weren't so."
He'd never thought too much about magic before he'd become an experiment and he certainly didn't care for it after the fact, but it was what was going to give him his life back, so he figured he may as well start paying attention to the nuances of it all, even though he couldn't perform magic himself. With any luck, the longer they were together the more easily the healing would be for her.
When the wagon bounced it caused the crate in his side to dig in painfully, but he merely let out a grunt and tried to adjust himself once more.
"I'd worked that out for myself, based on what you and your father said." He may have been a barbarian soldier from the North, but that didn't mean he didn't observe things carefully and come to logical conclusions. He wasn't book smart, but he was plenty wise.
"Well, if we get what we're looking for, I'd hope all will be forgiven. What is it, anyway?"
"It will be," Ellessa breathed, all her hopes riding on this years-long search. "Oh, it definitely will be." Then she dug for one of her satchels, bringing out a small leather-bound tome and opening it to a crudely drawn sketch; her hand with art had never been a strong one.
"We're looking for the Relic of Drakonas. It's...some sort of ancient artifact made by the great sorcerers of Old, and it gave them the power to control dragons." Everyone knew of dragons. Great, fearsome beasts which dominated the mountains and high places where humans were foolish to venture, massive predators which raided the lowlands only rarely now, taking sheep, cattle, and delivering destruction on a terrible scale.
"I know that they've become scarce, what with civilization growing and their being hunted almost to extinction, but they still do exist, and if someone was able to gain control of such a creature, imagine what just one dragon could do to an invading army?" She clutched the book in both hands, scarcely daring to believe it, herself. "That, Ser Joric, is what you and I are seeking."
Of all the things he might have guessed it could be, dragons wouldn't have even made it onto the list. His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he looked from the drawing to her, then back at the drawing once more as if unable to comprehend what was clearly being said. Dragons? That was what was going to win them the war? It seemed utterly foolish and he wondered if the princess was maybe a bit touched in the head. But no. Her father was a good man and he had helped set this whole thing up. Unless he had an incredibly soft spot for his daughter and her foolish notions, then Hathevar must have believed in this venture.
"It's just Joric." Which really wasn't what he should have been focusing on at the moment, but it was the first thing he was able to say. He was still trying to process the fact that she wanted them to find a relic which would let them tame a dragon. Where would they even find the dragon? What if the relic didn't work and it just gobbled up the heir to the throne before he could blink? This was far more than he'd bargained for.
"I, uhh... does the relic find dragons too? Or do we have to stumble upon one?" He could hardly believe he was even entertaining this, but what else could he do?
Ellessa nodded. "Joric, then. And you may call me Ellessa, or just Elle. Either will suffice." The princess tucked the book back into her satchel, then tried to adjust the cabbages a bit more comfortably. "There are tales," she told him, serious. "Old legends that I've spent years collecting and translating, of warriors riding dragons into battle, before even the dream of the Empire and all of its darkness. But somehow, all of that fell into lore, and the practice was abandoned, the dragons then hunted nearly to extinction."
She touched her satchel, the one crammed with all of her tomes. "I have several volumes on dragons themselves, their physiology, habits, biology, characteristics, basically everything I could find I notated and studied. If we do find the Relic, we should have a good chance of finding a dragon to tame with it, and then the hardest part of our task will be over."
The wagon creaked on, and Elle paused for a few minutes, then added, "By the way, thank you, for agreeing to assist me in this. I know...I know it seems a fool's errand, but I have to at least try."
As the silence fell between them, Joric stared off at nothing and wondered if they would actually achieve their goal. This was clearly a last desperate attempt to do something to win the war. If they returned empty handed, then the Empire would have already won. Not a pleasant thought, even as Joric thought of his own future. He couldn't return to the mountains; not after the way he had left. Those who left the army without permission were branded as cowards; a fact that he had wrestled with a great deal and only got past by joining another army to fight for them instead. Cowards didn't get an afterlife, but he wanted to ensure he'd get there and be accepted back among the Northmen. In this life, however, the Empire was not a place he wanted to live.
Her voice interrupted his thoughts and he shrugged. It would be a lie to say he was selflessly doing this for the good of Tacea, but he also recognized that this was the country's last chance.
"I have no wish to live under the Empire either. And this gives me a chance to be... better again too." If it was still possible. There was no knowing what the magic had damaged beyond repair.
"Speaking of the Empire, we should take care as we travel to avoid any of its spies or supporters. We should have a cover story for who we are and why we're traveling."
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There was no reasoning with the Emperor now. His armies had rolled over the continent like a glacier, smothering everything in their path and claiming what chanced to remain for his gluttonous greed. He styled himself a conqueror, but in reality he was nothing more than a hungry slug, more than willing to devour all which dared stand in his way. But Tacea had stood. Queen Aelan Zallende had been unwilling to stand aside and let the Mad Tyrant take her land, enslave her people, and crush her kingdom beneath a ruthless rule.
Taceans were hardly warriors, but they were fervent, and the Queen herself carried a powerful magic in her blood, strong enough to grind their enemy to a grueling, and costly, halt. But it wasn't enough. Little by little, the Imperial armies were gaining ground, and time was running out. Having grown up in the center of this conflict, Ellessa, youngest child and matriarchal heir of Tacea's throne, had been just as determined as the rest of her family to see this turmoil brought to a halt. If a political solution wasn't an option, then they would have to seek elsewhere.
And, after several long years of piecing legends together and unraveling mysteries, she'd found something.
"But it's true!" she insisted, pacing after her mother in the command tent, waving the sheets of parchment. "Look! I swear to you, the inscription's right here, and I've cross-referenced it with several other ancient sources. They all say the same thing!"
"Enough!" Aelan's voice was sharp as it sliced through the heavy air. "I will not allow you to go gallivanting off into the wilds chasing some...fairy tale, Ellessa. I simply will not."
The princess wasn't about to let it go. She was her mother's daughter, after all. "But it's a chance, Mother. A chance. What else have we got to lose?" Hathevar, Aelan's husband and father of her children, watched in silence. "If we can do this, if we can tame them, then we will be able to break this deadlock and drive the Imperials out of Tacea, and this entire part of the continent, forever, Mother!"
Aelan seemed to consider it for a moment, but then scoffed and threw her hands. "Foolishness! I'll hear no more talk about 'taming dragons' from you, Ellessa. I forbid it and that's the end of it!" She speared her daughter with a hard gaze. "Do you understand?"
Taken aback at her mother's vehemence, Ellessa ran down and gradually lowered her eyes and her hands. "...yes, your Majesty." She heard her father clear his throat, and saw him quietly leave the tent out of the corner of her eye. "I...understand."
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His solitude was interrupted by Hathevar entering his tent. Surprised, Joric set his sword aside and gave the man his full attention. When he'd asked to join this foreign army, it was Hathevar he'd had to answer to and had to explain why a man from the loose kingdom of mountain clans chose not to fight for them instead. And Joric had told the truth. He was always honest because only cowards needed to lie. An honest man could deal with the consequences of the truth, whatever they might be. He'd told of the army's mages; of their experiments and how they couldn't reverse his rage, so he'd left before they did worse to him. And so Joric had been searching for a cure while knowing it would take more magic to do it. He told him of the calming potion he was dependent on to hold the rage down, but how it was losing its effectiveness. He'd promised to leave the army should it become too much. Besides, he was only here to get some money before he moved on again. It was a neat little arrangement for the time being and Joric had thrown himself into battle as faithfully as any Tacean. But he couldn't account for why Hathevar would come to see him now.
"There's an important task that I think you just might be the man for," Hathevar said without a greeting. Having no reason not to hear the man out, Joric nodded.
"And what is that," he asked, moving to put his supplies away and wipe down his sword to remove the residue the whetstone left behind.
"Something that could change the tide of this war. And in return, there may be someone powerful enough to help you too."
Gray eyes narrowed suspiciously. How was it a person with that kind of skill was only discovered now? Had someone new entered the camp? It would be easy to be cynical and dismiss the whole idea, but what was Joric searching for if not to have hope that there was a cure for this?
"Follow me. I'll explain on the way." And with that Hathevar gestured out the front of the tent. Without much hesitation, Joric rose from his seat and sheathed his sword to follow, curious as to what was about to be revealed to him.
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"Ellessa," Hathevar nodded, greeting his daughter as was proper.
"Father," she returned in kind, giving the newcomer a speculative glance along with a lifted eyebrow.
"My daughter," she then heard Hathevar say to his companion, "Princess Ellessa Alivassa Zallende of Tacea, heir to Aelan, Queen of Tacea." To her, Hathevar said, "Elle, this is Joric, a seasoned veteran, and someone I think will suit you well."
The Regent then continued, saying to the Northman, "Joric, the princess will be heading out on a long, rough journey, and will need an escort of the rough-and-ready sort. She's a fair hand with magic, and a damned good healer, if a little young yet." Elle glowered at her father. Ignoring her, Hathevar went on.
"If you can get her to her destination and back again alive and relatively unharmed, then not only will we have a bitch of a chance to actually end this war, but Tacea will owe you a massive debt, which the Queen would repay by working on a cure for your...problem."
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"I've heard the Queen is powerful in magic," he admitted, weighing his options here. He should find out what exactly was the goal of her journey and how long she estimated it would take. And perhaps most important of all...
"Are you sure you want me to go with her when I have my... problem?" He spared her a glance. A magical healer. The mages back home had assigned him a healer to temporarily cure his rage. Could this princess do the same? "Or could she hold it back?" Now he took a step forward, curious as to her skills and if this trip would be possible after all. If the end goal was getting her to what she needed to end the war and that in turn got him the Queen's magic to cure him, how could he refuse? This might be his only chance. He could be free from these magical shackles that were holding back the real him and trying to replace him with a monster.
"I can escort you," he said. "I'm used to the wilds, living off the land, and fighting in all kinds of conditions." His jaw tensed a moment as he knew he would have to tell her everything before setting off alone with her. "But you need to know that I have an evil magic put on me. It makes me a more deadly berserker, but I have little control over it when it feels like taking over. If you can heal that magic when it crops up, then you'll be fine, but if you don't think you can, then you best find someone else." He didn't want her to find someone else. He wanted this favor so he could get his cure, but he wasn't some crazed man who enjoyed slaughter. He protected those who couldn't protect themselves, or at least that was always his goal. Now that he blacked out during rage episodes, it wasn't about protecting anymore. It was about destroying everything in his path. And the princess needed to know what he was capable of before she made her decision.
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"An 'evil magic'?" she echoed, unabashed in taking one of his arms and holding it out curiously. "I've never heard of such an enchantment." Elle dropped Joric's arm and paced about behind him, looking this barbarian up and down. Blue eyes were speculative, her fine features concentrated. "You certainly have the look of a battle-hardened savage, I'll grant." Coming around him, she speared her father with another look, then looked back at the barbarian.
"My mother is a powerful sorceress," she stated. "I'm certain she could find a way to end this affliction, if we survive our mission. As for the duration..." she paused, bit her lip, a little uncertain. "Well, I suppose I would have to try to calm you during one of your...'fits', but there are several staunch potions I can brew in the meantime, which would leave you unconscious for a time. Would that be acceptable?"
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"The Fjelldalr army's mages did it," he answered. "But seeing how the country's a confederation of clans, I cannot tell you which clan taught their mages to put this kind of spell on a person, or how to reverse it." It had occurred to him that maybe the army didn't want him to lose his rage because it made him the perfect weapon, but the mages had seemed adamant that he was a danger to the rest of their troops if they couldn't finesse their magic to better control how he used his rage. Hence the mage healer. It had been a bandage on the wound while they did more fruitless experiments on him. "I just know it wasn't mine." Up in the mountains the Northmen lived in semi-isolated clans until they traded women during festivals to keep the bloodlines clean. Nations had tried to invade time and time again, but the barbarians knew the land better and always prevailed. The only reason they were united as a country was to keep consistent laws about trade and to keep a standing army to better defend their mountains. It also meant the army was full of people from all across the North whose clans could be very different.
This trip with her was a risk, but something told him she could control him. Maybe it was that critical look in her eye, or the way she studied him. Maybe it was the notes and books he noticed here in her tent. Maybe it was the praise of her father. Whatever the reason, he wasn't a man to risk an innocent's safety, yet he could tell somehow that she had this covered.
"Whatever you need to do. As long as you wouldn't be defenseless while I'm unconscious."
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"Yes," she heard herself say, bustling around her tent and shoving things in a satchel, "I know how to handle myself, Ser Joric, you needn't worry on that score." To her father, she said, "Are the horses ready? And have you made the arrangements at the gate? I'd rather not run right into Aedan's guardsmen and have him go running straight to Mother."
"Don't worry about your brother," Hathevar told her, hand resting idly on his sword hilt. "I've replaced his men with my own, so they'll allow you right through. There's a supply caravan leaving in an hour, heading for Medalia, so it'll be best if the two of you ride in one of the wagons until you reach the village. I've arranged for horses and supplies to await you there."
"Perfect. Thank you, Father." She paused in her peregrinations to kiss her father's grizzled cheek, then turned back to the large Northman. "Well, Northman? Are you game for this adventure? We'll be heading to the Frostbacks," all the way across the continent, more than a thousand leagues, nearly a five month journey, "to recover a very ancient, very powerful, artifact, one that could save my people and end this miserable war."
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There were a lot of what ifs involved here. What if they traveled all that way and the artifact wasn't even there? Or what if it was, but it didn't work the way they needed it to? And what if there wasn't enough of him left to save by the time they got back? Exhaling a sigh through his nose, he nodded at her question. This was probably the only hope he had, and he supposed the only hope Tacea had too.
"It seems like what's needed, so I'll help you recover it." Simple as that. He wasn't one for big speeches when a few words would do. His eyes traveled towards Hathevar. "And there'll be plenty of time for the Queen to figure out how to cure me." Looking back towards the princess, he added, "Let me pack my things and I'll be right back. Maybe you can explain a bit more about this artifact when I get back, since we'll be waiting on the supply wagon to leave."
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She shoved another small leather book in her pack, then paused. "I'll explain everything on the way to Medalia, promise. But for now, haste is required, and a good bit of stealth and misdirection." At the last, the princess glanced at her father, who bowed and nodded in return, taking his leave to perform his part in this little chicanery.
Elle went back to packing, saying over her shoulder, "Hurry. And I'll meet you there soon."
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"As you say," he replied before leaving the tent, following closely behind Hathevar and taking a few long strides to walk next to him.
"The queen doesn't know," he pointed out as they moved. "Are you sure she'll help me? She might want to execute me instead for taking off with your daughter for months on end."
Hathevar merely laughed as if it was of no concern. "You leave her to me. Now, you have a wagon to catch." Joric frowned, but nodded and offered the man his hand for a farewell shake. This plan seemed more desperate by the minute, but what was he, if not a desperate man? Hathevar shook his hand, clapped him on his shoulder, and set him on his way. Packing was easy. Joric owned so few possessions that there was nothing to leave behind. A few change of clothes, his sword, hunting knife, and a small hatchet were the main items, and a fur lined cloak, though he rarely needed it. Northmen blood ran hot and they often wore sleeveless shirts out in the snow. However, the Frostbacks were a colder place than his mountain homeland, so it was best to assume the worst.
Within minutes he was out at the appointed meeting place, hand on the hilt of his sword and pack on his back. He wasn't sure what lie in their path ahead, but he was skilled at camping and making use of what was out in the world around him. He wasn't sure what experience she had with that sort of thing. Seeing how she had a tent out here in the soldier's camp, it wasn't all cozy four poster beds and silk dressing gowns for her. That was a start.
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She'd brought three packs with her, one for clothing, another for spell books and ingredients, and the other for what food she could carry with her. She'd traded her finer royal garments for sensible traveling clothes; tunic and leggings of hardy fabrics, sturdy boots, and a thick woolen overcoat that fell nearly to her knees. She was hardly a simpering maiden needing to be rescued by the nearest knight, after all.
"Well," she said equably once the train began to slowly make its way out of the encampment, "here's to a fortuitous journey and uneventful travels. May we be swift and silent, and all that."
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Eyes glanced over the princess as she entered before falling on her burdens. He released a sigh, but knowing there were horses awaiting them meant at least he didn't have to be her pack mule too. At least she was dressed sensibly as well.
"Aye," he replied, trying to adjust how he sat as the wagon began to move and that rattling sound became louder. To make matters worse, the driver of the wagon started to sing off key, and Joric glared at the man's back, feeling a quick burst of pressure behind his eyes. Oh, great, now this? This was how the rage liked to start. Little irritants would build and build and would lead to far worse unless he contained it. He had a few potion bottles, but they were packed away at the moment.
"How do you do your healing?" he asked. "Last healer I had assigned to me had to touch my skin."
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It was hard to explain, really, and she'd never been the best at self-analyzation. "Let's see if it's going to work, with you. If I may?" She hovered her hand lightly over his forearm, then gently lowered it until it rested on his skin, warm and quiet. Ellessa closed her eyes and let her magic work, a slow warmth seeping into Joric's body through that simple touch. It was calming, quiet, and comforting, like a woolen blanket against a snowy mountain morning.
"...how do you feel?" she softly inquired, not wanting to break the spell despite the less-than-ideal surroundings. "Better?"
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"Mm," he hummed. "Aye." It had worked well. Quickly and efficiently. Her father was right when he spoke of her talent. Of course, Joric had caught it right as it started this time. In the future the episodes might be more intense.
"Can you feel what's wrong with me?" he added a moment later. "Or can you only feel that you're doing the repairing?" It was bad enough that he had to feel it, so he hoped she couldn't feel the fire building within him too.
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"Not...exactly, but then I wasn't really looking, either. It's possible, I suppose, given a bit of time and examination." Her lips quirked, and she shook her head lightly. "My mother could, I have no doubt. Her magic is so much more powerful than mine."
Elle paused for a moment, thinking it over. "We will work on it," she promised. "As we travel. Familiarity will help, too. Which is why families usually have one healer somewhere in their lineage. And now that I know you are sensitive to this particular magic, I can brew a few tonics along the same lines that will hopefully have the same effect."
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"Right. I have a few in my bag, but you'd probably know the best ingredients. I just use what an alchemist recommended. It's losing its effectiveness the more I take it too." Which meant the magical healing would become even more important the further along they went in their journey.
The driver hit another off key note and Joric glared at him a moment before turning back. Thank the gods she was here, or else people would come upon an abandoned cart in the middle of the road with a bloody stain where the driver had once been.
"What kind of familiarity? Just being in each other's presence?" He was hoping she didn't mean sharing their life stories or anything.
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The wagon hit a small rock, bounced, and Elle yelped, rubbing her elbow where it'd banged against a crate. "Would that we'd had another, less painful way out of the camp!" she hissed, but kept it to a minimum; she knew her father had done what he could to get her out without a squabble.
"...just so you're aware," she finally admitted, a miniscule thread of sheepishness coloring her tone, "my mother didn't exactly approve of this jaunt. Forbade it flat, in point of fact." She laughed humorlessly. "But," Elle said then, her tone becoming firm once more, "I have to do what I believe is necessary, my mother's blessing or not." Then her expression fell a bit, became melancholy. "...I just wish it weren't so."
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When the wagon bounced it caused the crate in his side to dig in painfully, but he merely let out a grunt and tried to adjust himself once more.
"I'd worked that out for myself, based on what you and your father said." He may have been a barbarian soldier from the North, but that didn't mean he didn't observe things carefully and come to logical conclusions. He wasn't book smart, but he was plenty wise.
"Well, if we get what we're looking for, I'd hope all will be forgiven. What is it, anyway?"
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"We're looking for the Relic of Drakonas. It's...some sort of ancient artifact made by the great sorcerers of Old, and it gave them the power to control dragons." Everyone knew of dragons. Great, fearsome beasts which dominated the mountains and high places where humans were foolish to venture, massive predators which raided the lowlands only rarely now, taking sheep, cattle, and delivering destruction on a terrible scale.
"I know that they've become scarce, what with civilization growing and their being hunted almost to extinction, but they still do exist, and if someone was able to gain control of such a creature, imagine what just one dragon could do to an invading army?" She clutched the book in both hands, scarcely daring to believe it, herself. "That, Ser Joric, is what you and I are seeking."
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"It's just Joric." Which really wasn't what he should have been focusing on at the moment, but it was the first thing he was able to say. He was still trying to process the fact that she wanted them to find a relic which would let them tame a dragon. Where would they even find the dragon? What if the relic didn't work and it just gobbled up the heir to the throne before he could blink? This was far more than he'd bargained for.
"I, uhh... does the relic find dragons too? Or do we have to stumble upon one?" He could hardly believe he was even entertaining this, but what else could he do?
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She touched her satchel, the one crammed with all of her tomes. "I have several volumes on dragons themselves, their physiology, habits, biology, characteristics, basically everything I could find I notated and studied. If we do find the Relic, we should have a good chance of finding a dragon to tame with it, and then the hardest part of our task will be over."
The wagon creaked on, and Elle paused for a few minutes, then added, "By the way, thank you, for agreeing to assist me in this. I know...I know it seems a fool's errand, but I have to at least try."
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Her voice interrupted his thoughts and he shrugged. It would be a lie to say he was selflessly doing this for the good of Tacea, but he also recognized that this was the country's last chance.
"I have no wish to live under the Empire either. And this gives me a chance to be... better again too." If it was still possible. There was no knowing what the magic had damaged beyond repair.
"Speaking of the Empire, we should take care as we travel to avoid any of its spies or supporters. We should have a cover story for who we are and why we're traveling."