Mud and Magic Ch. 04

"That sounds horrible. Wait- I thought the Church was sworn to..."

Thurguz smiled mildly. "A splinter sect of the Church, lad. When the last direct heir of Orran's lineage died, one of many schisms tore into the Church of Light. Some high-ranking clerics thought that only the true heirs of Orran had the divine spark in them, others were a bit more practical and declared that the king, no matter his blood line, was a divine being worthy of worship. And it went downhill from there. The people who murdered Orran IV believed that the king had to be chosen from the old Lordehome nobility. Orran IV was an adventurer though, born in Storm Harbor, and he managed to win his throne by conquering a dark elven city. The then-ruling princess took him as her husband, which in essence made him king."

The half-orc sighed. "I really liked him."

Rhys looked up from the book. "Excuse me, Master, but how old are you exactly?"

"Ha! You really are as sharp as a tack. Well, if you have to ask, I am well past a hundred. More like a hundred and twenty. And before you ask, yes, the average half-orc only lives about sixty years. But that's one of the perks of being a wizard, Rhys. You eventually find means to deal with pesky things like aging. Now, enough about me. Do you know why I told you all this?"

Rhys shook his head. "No. Besides teaching me a history lesson, is there another reason?"

"Oh yes, there is!" He looked very serious all of a sudden. "The Old Kingdoms had already splintered into a handful of independent city-states well before Orran IV even went Below. They were a kingdom in name only. But even back then, there were dreamers about who thought about reuniting the cities and bringing together what had been torn asunder. One of those dreamers was a young cleric of the Light. A man named Carver."

Rhys suddenly sat up straight. "He was what?"

"Carver was a young cleric of the Light. If you want to be extra-technical, he was a firm believer in the Pure Light, the sect which preaches that as long as the King is good and has only the best interest of his subjects in mind, it does not matter which blood flows within his veins. A powerful vision, especially at a time when the Kingdoms were torn apart by selfishness and greed. There were a few noble families, high-ranking clerics and guilds which held immense amounts of money and power but the common folk were poor and miserable. Carver thought this a horrible state of affairs and he worked tirelessly to help the poor and the downtrodden."

"You're joking."

"Not at all. How do you think he managed to convince me and Idunn to join his cause?"

"You what?"

Thurguz waved a hand. "During the days of Orran IV, there were the four of us. Carver, Idunn, Zephrya and me. I was but a simple fighter back then. But his strong morals and unwavering faith drew me to him. He didn't treat me like some misshapen half-breed of orc and man, he valued my strength and resilience, and even my counsel on occasion."

"Who's Zephrya?"

"She was a rogue, a gorgeous elven lass with raven-black hair and purple eyes. You can find an image of her down in the Hall of Portraits." Thurguz sighed.

"May I ask what happened to her?"

"She-" Thurguz stopped. "No, that has to wait until later." He cleared his throat. "The four of us traveled the length and breadth of the Kingdoms, fighting monsters, corruption and helping the common folk."

"And you're certain you're talking about the same Carver-"

Thurguz cut Rhys short with a slash of his hand. "Yes. You see, no matter how much we struggled to expose corrupt guild masters or nobles mistreating their subjects, barely anything changed. One guild master was replaced by another, and within a few years, months or even weeks, they were as bad or even worse as their predecessors. It took years but Carver grew frustrated. We all did. But he was the first to snap. There was this noble, a certain Vardain. He owned a large swath of land south of Lordehome, several villages to his name, and he wrung his subjects dry. High taxes, nearly unobtainable tithes..."

"Sounds familiar," Rhys growled, balling his fists.

"The royal laws and Church laws stated clearly how much a noble was entitled to and how he had to treat his subjects. Problem was, barely anyone enforced those laws back then. Gods know, no one does now that the Kingdoms and the Church have all splintered beyond repair. But back then at least there were some who tried to uphold these laws. When we learned of Vardain's conduct, we acquired the proper writs and went to investigate, with the aim of apprehending him."

"It didn't work out?"

"Oh, the investigation went smoother than a buttered dick between titties," Thurguz grumbled. "We only needed to ask the villagers and Vardain's staff. Even his troops had few good words for him so no one raised arms when we apprehended him and his eldest son, who was nearly as depraved as his father. Liked to collect cherries off beautiful village boys and girls, if you get my drift."

Rhys nodded grimly. "What then?"

"While we were away investigating and apprehending Vardain, someone had warned the High Justicar what was about to happen. What neither of us knew -- the High Justicar was Vardain's brother-in-law. So, when we deposited him in jail, a bailiff already waited and unlocked his cuffs. We stood there, fuming, as Vardain strutted past us like a smug peacock. They let him walk the minute we brought him in!"

"You couldn't escalate this any further? Who was the Justicar's superior?"

"That would have been the Princess. Sadly, she was little more than a figurehead at the time, the court was run by the senior nobles. No, we couldn't escalate. We could only fume in impotence as Vardain left Lordehome. A few days later, the guard captain who had sanctioned our investigation was hanged for possession and distribution of dark elven narcotics and Vardain returned to his hold, continuing his atrocities."

"Then what?"

"Carver told us he needed to rethink our approach and disbanded our group. He said he would cloister himself until The Light would send him an epiphany. So Idunn, Zephrya and I rented rooms at an inn and waited. One night, one of our contacts in the Guard came running. He dragged us to one of the watchtowers and had us look through one of the Guard's fabled spyglasses. The southern horizon was lit up by a sinister orange glow, like a miniature sun. Idunn cast a far-seeing spell and we soon learned that someone had attacked Vardain's manor. The building was badly damaged, fire had broken out and even spread to the adjoining buildings."

"Maybe someone else-?" Rhys began.

Thurguz shook his head, his topknot flailing. "No. Even though Idunn didn't see him at the scene of the attack, he unreservedly admitted that he had been involved with the raid. Like he said 'If no one else does it, I have to do it myself,' referring to taking out the scum of the Kingdoms. We were aghast. Carver had always been a paragon of his faith, strictly working according to the tenets of his church and the laws of the Kingdoms. But he had decided that he was no longer beholden to them since they so obviously had failed."

"That was the moment you turned against him?"

Thurguz laughed bitterly. "No lad. We tried to convince him to keep working within the letters of the law. We had been friends for over a decade by then and you don't denounce friends after a single misstep, no matter how egregious."

He sighed. "In hindsight, we probably should have ended it then and there. But we were still trying to convince him that one bad apple does not necessarily spoil the whole bunch."

"It obviously didn't work," Rhys hissed.

"No, it didn't. He would swear by his faith that he would not snap, that he would still work within the law -- and after a few weeks, when another evildoer was within our grasp, instead of apprehending or subduing them, he simply would kill them. It happened again and again, always his begging for forgiveness then another dead perpetrator. We tried everything, even having him undergo an atonement for his sins. We brought him before his bishop and told him what had happened. The bishop said he would see to it that our friend would be cleansed and then returned to us. Carver was put in chains and taken away. I will never forget his glare as he was led into the dungeons, as if he personally wanted to tear out my heart."

"That sounds ominous."

"I'm not a pious man so I have no idea how such a ceremony would work. When Carver returned to us, a few weeks later, he had changed. He still had his magnetic personality but the last remains of his gentleness, his willingness to put himself before others, that had gone. And his powers had grown by leaps and bounds. He was able to intone prayers no ordinary cleric of the Light should cast, far-reaching, powerful miracles. Battle spells instead of the healing magic he once used to soothe the pain of others. When we realized what had really happened, it was far too late."

Thurguz rose from his chair and paced his room. "He never made it to the atonement ceremony. Despite being locked up in the Church's dungeon, despite being bound with silver cuffs, he somehow managed to escape."

"How?"

"Desire. From what I've learned, she must have offered him a pact."

Rhys shivered. Even in Gran's book, The Lady of Desire was mentioned, The Dark Seductress, The Whispered Promise. When he was younger, Gran never ran out of cautionary tales involving stupid villagers who made pacts with Desire, having some petty wish fulfilled before she collected a horrible price.

"How is that possible when he was locked up? Don't you need to find a temple to ask for her blessing?"

"I was in Storm Harbor a few years ago, trying to find an answer to that particular question. If there was a chance to find a talkative cleric of Desire, it was there. Idunn called me mad for even trying, but I managed to receive the information without having to pay through my nose. All that poor chap wanted was a bag full of money to cover his gambling debts." Thurguz sat down, a smug grin on his face. "He was very forthcoming, probably hoping that he could sway me to his faith. After all, I desire Carver's downfall with all my heart by now."

"You didn't consider his offer, did you?"

The half-orc snorted in disgust. "Not for a moment. Don't tell Elara, but for me, gods and priests serve only one purpose -- healing my battered body. I'll leave all that soul-saving business to them. I have a very real war to wage and no time for pious thinking. Now, a quick theology lesson. Most deities in our world, those that really exist, are rather passive beings. From what I have learned, they thrive on the faith of their believers. The more people believe in them, the more powerful they become and the more sway they hold. That's why Mother Plenty is the most powerful of all the goddesses -- there simply are way more farmers and small folk than nobles or warriors. With me so far?"

Rhys nodded.

"Good. There are exceptions to that rule, Desire being one of them. She actively seeks out people with strong, unwavering desires and offers her help in achieving them. Since everyone desires something, even such a basic thing as food or a roof over their heads, there is never a lull in her power. But those pacts she offers, they strengthen her more than the simple residual energy. And the longer the pact goes on, the more she gains through it. The poor sod on the receiving end rarely notices it until it is too late for him. And she is one devious bitch. Not only does she send visions or enticement to those she sees as worthy pact-takers, she demands of her worshipers to craft items to spread her influence."

"Like what?"

Thurguz rose and took another book off his shelf, plastering his paw over the cover. His fingers obscured most of a huge, dizzying rune. "This is a Book Of Wishes," he said. "Anything you write into this book will become possible." He replaced the book and sat down again. "There are just two little caveats. First, the ink with which you write. It's your own blood, a potent material component for a binding spell. And the second is Desire herself. Once you have written your wish, she will state it will be granted before announcing her price -- and there is no way to ever escape paying that due."

"Why do you have it?" Rhys asked, at the same time fascinated and terrified.

"When I returned from my chat with that cleric, the book somehow found its way into my chamber at the 'Toothless Godling.' I took it with me to keep it safe so no other unwitting idiot will ever use it."

"So Carver was rescued by Desire?"

"Yes. She offered him a pact and spirited him away to one of her hidden shrines where she anointed him one of her clerics. We only found out when Zephrya found Her holy symbol in Carver's pack. Up to that point we thought he had been a reformed cleric of the Light."

"He tricked you."

Thurguz growled, causing Rhys to shrink into the dephts of his chair. "Yes, he tricked us. He played the reformed cleric, while behind our back, his hired mercenary bands began to target all the criminals which had slipped through our fingers one way or another. By the time we turned on him, it was already too late. He had his fortress, an army of henchmen and a divine patron. We couldn't win in a straight-up fight. We tried, mind you, but he kicked us to the curb and left us to die. Zephrya pleaded for her life and he took her with him."

"To what end?"

Thurguz smiled wistfully. "She was the smartest of us all, even outfoxing Idunn on numerous occasions. Zephrya thought that by playing to his vanity and offering herself in exchange for us, she could find out his weaknesses and help us topple him."

The half-orc's voice was barely more than a soft whisper. Rhys wasn't even entirely sure Thurguz still saw him. The sunlight shining through the window showed the deep lines in the old wizard's face. All of a sudden, his usual bluster and noise was gone, leaving behind a sad, old man.

"But even our shadowy fox was no match for Carver. On the contrary. He let her think she could play him, only to use her for his own ends. Zephrya was well-connected, both in the Old Kingdoms and the elven realms, and Carver used her to get a foothold in several elven retreats." Thurguz' knuckles cracked as he balled his fists. "When she realized her mistake, Zeph killed herself. Her actions had delivered hundreds of her kin to Carver's men and she couldn't live with the shame."

"I'm sorry to hear that. One of those was Elara's home, right?"

"So she told you about it already? Good." Thurguz sighed. "Yes. He has his sights set on the elven riches."

"What exactly is Carver trying to do?" Rhys asked. "So far, he seems like a mad tyrant."

Thurguz chuckled. "Carver is anything but mad. Deluded, maybe, but he is one of the smartest and most collected men I've ever known. He has a vision, Rhys. He wants to re-unite the Old Kingdoms under his flag, imposing his sense of order on them."

"Sorry to disagree, Master, but that sounds mad. If the old kings failed at keeping their lands together, how can Carver ever hope to manage that?"

"Through a multi-pronged approach. The old cities, splintered as they are, still command a sizable military force, and a pretty well-trained one to boot. Carver's men, although numerous, are the scum of the land, murderers, thieves, practically everyone he can stuff into a set of armor and teach basic sword-swinging. Mercy knows I have killed enough of them already. They are good for subduing unruly villagers and light combat but not disciplined enough for a full-on siege."

"Why doesn't he hire better-trained men?"

"Because they cost more and he really doesn't need them. Follow me." Thurguz rose and walked to the table. Rhys placed Thurguz' copy of 'The Tales Of Orran' on a shelf and joined the half-orc at the table, who was busy adjusting the odd metal arms hanging above it. Suddenly, the shapeless blots of color turned into an image, like an eagle's view of the land.

"What is this?" Rhys asked, carefully touching the rim of the table. His fingers tickled. By now he recognized a magical power source when he was near one.

"One of Idunn's many gifts. A far-seeing mirror built into this rather nice table. This is the area around Lordehome." Thurguz indicated a large grey blot, bisected by a glittering river. "Your home village should be somewhere around here," he added, pointing to what looked like scattered crumbs on a patchwork tablecloth. "There are about fifteen such villages located in a semicircle around Lordehome, close enough that usually they would deal with the city, selling grain and livestock there."

"But we have... had nothing to sell left thanks to his insane tithes," Rhys said.

"Watch." Thurguz muttered something and adjusted one of the metal arms. A red haze settled over Rhys' village and most of the others to the south and east of Lordehome. "These nine villages are now under Carver's control. More than half of the ones supplying Lordehome. What do you think he achieves by doing this?"

"He starves them." Rhys chewed on his lower lip. "And he can sell the excess food back to the city. Devious."

"Not only that. He has Lordehome by the balls. By threatening to withhold food deliveries, he could sway the city to his will. But there is even more." Thurguz indicated the villages not under Carver's control. "People are not stupid. They buy where the price is best and Carver asks more than the average farmer. So, those villages not under his control are sold out pretty quickly. Now, let's take a look at the bigger picture." Thurguz again manipulated a metal arm and the view changed, showing a much larger area. Instead of just one city, it showed four, arranged in somewhat of an irregular diamond pattern. And there was a wide swath of red running around the southern area of the view, all the way to the coast. In the west of the diamond, there were several large islands of red as well.

Thurguz pointed, naming each city, going clockwise. "Here in the east, it's Lordehome then Orran's Crossing in the south, Eronwood in the west and Stoneridge in the north."

"And all the red areas here? Is that Carver's influence?"

Thurguz nodded grimly. "He has picked the easy targets first, the ones barely anyone gives a hoot about. Horvath Point and the surrounding fishing villages, which gives him access to the Eastern Ocean. These," he pointed at the areas in the west, "are his logging operations. They provide ample coin and cover his advances on the elven realms. And all the while he is slowly starving the old cities to death. Lordehome has it the worst at the moment but it won't be long until the other three feel his grip on their balls."

"And you are trying to work against him? How? With just a handful of students? Forgive me, Master, but you sound almost as crazy as him and he already has a huge lead."

Thurguz laughed. "I like your spirit. Seems like Celeste has pointed me to the right lad. I am not foolish enough to believe that the seven of you will stop Carver in a direct attack. That has never been my plan to begin with. Watch."

Another adjustment of the arms. A multitude of lights appeared all over the map, far too many for Rhys to count. They were scattered in the cities, in the villages, even in the beleaguered elven retreats.

"I've been doing this for the past thirty years, Rhys. These are all my students. Well, most of them. Some have regrettably died. They are working against Carver like we once did against the corruption of the Old Kingdoms. The four of us were alone and unguided, with no support to speak of. Not this time though. Like before, those in power are either unwilling or unable to muster a concerted effort against their common threat so someone else has to."