Chapter 9: Magik Bard

Isles of Vaettir

Southern part, Cappadox

The Southern part of Vaettir is among its major cities which was also the first line of their defense against any aggressor. It is also the central trading point where most of their imports and exports are settled.

Cappadox was name after their nation’s hero, the blind whisperer of wind. He was one of the four unequaled Magi who lived through many generations to teach the ‘Authority’ of Magik.

The city skies remained behind the fiery glaze of fire, but rays of sun dappled the houses and roofs with morning light.

Fionn had no idea how the whole ‘light and sky’ process works. Above was like a living inferno vividly spitting orange flame that can probably incinerate anyone in an instant.

He gave up trying to comprehend everything. ‘Maybe it is just simply the power of a god’.

His thoughts went back to how easily Karis’ group slipped past them unseen.

After he had urged his two companions to patiently wait for half an hour to watch the ship’s passengers leave one by one, Artemia’s forbearance wane, which made her stomp impatiently back to the ship again to directly ask the crew if there were still left onboard.

And to everyone’s surprise they found out that every quarter of the vessel was already left empty.

As he could do nothing else, he let it be. But the strange memory that had surge upon contact with the lady… it never left him with anything else other then questioning. ‘Why did I suddenly remember that memory?’

When they headed deeper into the urban, Fionn realizes how greatly he was mistaken about his idea of the land of Magik; he thought it would be filled with old temples and the towers of mystic, instead it was all in his imagination as the city towered with huge mansions and estates. Architectural structures of the most grandiose designs he has seen were built everywhere.

Just within its gates, were Synkentro-Magik canons—which was the most destructive weaponry currently use by powerful nations. The soldiers also wore full-battle armor suits, unlike how he imagined the army would be filled with mages with long flowing robes to their back and carrying heavy leather tomes.

Upon arriving at the central plaza, Fionn notices that people were beginning to walk towards and fill around a performer orating something in a rhythmical tone.

The three push themselves in the midst of the crowd to get a better view of whatever is happening.

There, in the middle, a tall bard is singing as he strummed elegantly each string of his lyre. His notes and voice were full of delight and merriness at first but turn grave lyrical tune as he began to unfold a tale Fionn have already head before.

The moon is young like a fair maiden,

Plentiful devotees worship its light in heaven.

Warm celebrated days the sun have given.

But many still abuse freedom like heathens.

Did the Throne of Divine give a lasting punishment?

Or

A reflection since we became consume to attain contentment?

So began the story from the time of old

We never cease to sing in our abodes.

For today to be grateful what chance is bestowed.

And for future orientation of the world’s code.

There was once a great threat to every race,

the only time every nation gathered in a single gate.

To crush the wicked horde with steel sword and mace.

To defeat the princes of abyssal seats and their dark fate.

All to purge the seven devils in their malevolent choir.

All to vanquish the Dark Lord to the deepest chasm of fire.

The bard bowed after his splendid performance, waving and smiling to show his appreciation to the round of applause and cheers that followed.

Coins clink on the box in front of him as the audience drop a plentiful before leaving.

Fionn thought that the guy must have been living in luxury day if he earns the same day by day.

He caught in a flash the wordsmith’s eyes watching them.

He reluctantly went nearer to him, wondering if the bard is going to tell them he is expecting the arrival of three wanderers, just like most did.

Then before he could reach the poet, a bell toll somewhere near and throngs of people went out of their houses, those in the plaza quickly headed in a single direction.

The number of citizens’ cramp the place in a single wave, squeezing the three inside the mob which made Fionn lose his track on the bard.

“Guess we lost him” Artemia blurted as the number subsided bit by bit.

Ajax still squinted his eyes at the direction people headed, “He looks kind of suspicious when he saw us though”.

It was then Fionn realizes there was no longer a spear strap at his back.

-----

Fionn furiously walked back and forth at the tavern lounge, pacing in relentless anger. He was not sure whether it was the thief or himself for the reason of his rage. He did not know who to blame.

He can’t believe his weapon got stolen in front of his eyes.

“Maybe you should try calling it? or getting a feel of it” Ajax offered probably to stop him blabbering, “Our weapons surely does have some special connection to each wielder since we acquired it in a sacred rite”

Fionn closes his eyes. The big man has a point; the goddess Ashera chose them to wield a heaven’s armament.

He searches for it, any tug or pull that would direct him to his lance’s location. He thought of the sensation of power that flowed every time he held his dark spear. He imagined calling it to show him the path with the aura it emanated.

As Fionn felt the heave of power he opens his eyes, but it was something else that he saw.

Metallic scent tingled under his nose. He was certain his lance is already somewhere near. But it was a dark place he has been sent to, before he could look around any further, voices spoke—but it was somewhat inaudibly far.

He was not sure it was even real.

Then a group of people materializes in front of him. People in long-maroon robes, their faces blurred, but the place revealed to be a wooden house with only a single window to give the surrounding a dim light.

The voices came in muffled sounds to his ears, but Fionn concentrated to make something.

“Yes…”

“This weapon is of divine…”

“Three of them…”

“Maybe it is what we’ve-“

But his eavesdropping was halted as a woman looks in his direction, her face was painted with a black stripe across her eyes.

As Fionn awaken from his vision, his heart pounded loudly. Someone was able to see him.

But he knew he had no choice but to press on as he saw sparkling dust riding the wind, carrying a trail of aura that Fionn knew leads to his weapon.