Brian Pratt - Trail of the Gods

Jiron catches James’ eye and rolls his eyes as he gives a sidelong nod at their guest.

“Thank you for taking the time to listen to my dilemma,” the man says to him.

“I am very busy,” replies James, as he sits down in one of the chairs. “Say what you came here to say.”

Sitting back down, the man begins, “I shall be brief then.” Glancing to Jiron, he continues, “I was telling your friend here somewhat of my problem and am hoping you might be of a mind to help me.”

James glances to Jiron and then asks, “What sort of problem?” Jiron gives him a brief, amused smile.

“Well, it’s like this,” he explains. “I own a small business in Osgrin.” When James doesn’t respond to the name, he adds, “It’s a town just a little south of here.”

“Oh,” says James.

“Anyway, I’m a dye merchant,” he continues when no further comment is forthcoming. “And recently a competitor has set up another shop close to mine.”

“And?” prompts James.

“And, he’s hurting my business,” says the man. “He’s selling his dyes far cheaper than I’m able to. How, I don’t know. If something isn’t done, he’ll ruin me!”

“And you want me to do what?” he asks.

“Why, cast a spell on him or something that will make his dyes be of lesser quality,” he explains. “Exactly what, I’d leave to your judgment.”

Where Jiron is amused, James is anything but. “Let me get this straight,” he says, coming to his feet. “You want me to ruin a man’s business because he’s cutting into your profits?”

“Yes,” replies the man in all sincerity. “I’d pay you for your troubles.”

Eyes smoldering, he says to Jiron, “Get this fool from my sight!”

“You better go,” Jiron says as he brings the man to his feet.

“But,” the man says as Jiron begins to lead him to the door, “I’ll give you a hundred gold!”

“Get out!” yells James. The frustration he had felt before when this idiot disturbed his experiments blossoms into full fledged anger. “I’ll not take a million for such a deed. How dare you even ask me!”

Struggling against Jiron as he’s being pulled from the house, he cries out, “But you’re a mage! You’re supposed to do things like this!”

Ezra pokes her head in from the kitchen to see what’s going on.

Roland appears at the door, axe in hand. James glances at him and says, “Assist Jiron in getting this man off my property.” To the man he adds, “Don’t you ever come back here again!”

Setting his axe on the floor, Roland takes one arm while Jiron takes the other and they drag the dye merchant out of the house. James watches from the window as they take him to the end of the lane.

“He doesn’t understand,” he hears Ezra say from behind him.

Turning around, he sees her framed in the doorway to the kitchen, “Understand what?”

“You,” she says. “You are not like other mages we hear about. You are kind and considerate, no one expects that from one such as you.”

His anger slowly subsides until he’s simply frustrated. “I suppose,” he says.

“All our lives, the stories we hear of those with the power are ones of terror and pain,” she explains. “People just can’t believe that a mage, wizard, or whatever can be anything but bad.”

Sighing, he nods his head, “I know. Whenever anyone has found out I’m a mage, their first reaction is usually one of fear or trepidation. Only by getting to know me do their opinions change.”

“That is true,” she agrees. “Sorry to have intruded, but I thought you should know.”

“Thank you, Ezra,” he says. “I do appreciate it.”

She then returns to the kitchen to resume whatever it was she had been doing.

Turning back to the window, he sees Jiron and Roland returning, the dye merchant stands at the end of the lane for a moment. It almost seems like the man still hasn’t grasped the idea James isn’t going to be helping him. Jiron turns around and yells something at him. When the man still doesn’t leave, he draws one of his knives and advances on him.

Seeing the drawn knife, he finally gets the idea and starts running down the road toward town.

Jiron replaces his knife and catches up with Roland as they walk back to the house. James moves to the doorway as they walk up, “He wouldn’t leave?”

Shaking his head, Jiron says, “That guy simply would not listen. It wouldn’t sink in that no amount of money could sway you.” Cracking a grin, he adds, “So I finally had to chase him off.”

Returning the grin, James says, “Yeah, I saw that.”

“The problem is,” explains Roland, “is that word about you is getting around. People are talking I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” he asks. “And just what are they saying?”

“Mainly that you’re a mage and that you’ve helped some people out,” answers Roland.

“Great, notoriety,” sighs James. “That’s just what I wanted.” Glancing at Jiron, he continues, “Would you mind going into town tonight and find out just what they’re saying? I’d like to know.”

“Sure,” he says. “I can take a couple of the guys and down a few at the Squawking Goose.” Then he smiles and a short laugh escapes him.

“What?” James asks.

“Did you ever hear why the place is called the Squawking Goose?” he asks.

He sees Roland start to grin as he shakes his head and says, “No.”

“Well, it’s rumored that the owner’s wife never shuts up, and, well that’s it,” he replies.

“He named it after his wife?” James asks incredulously. “Doesn’t she get mad?”

“This is the funny part,” says Roland. “The wife doesn’t know, she thinks it’s because they serve goose a lot. But she does talk more than most.”

All three start to laugh. Roland grabs his axe from where he’d set it down and heads back to the wood pile. They can hear his laughter as he walks away.

“Going back to the crystals?” Jiron asks.

“I think so,” he replies. “I might have had it, if it wasn’t for that pest.”

“I’ll keep an eye out and make sure you’re not disturbed again,” he assures him.

“I’d appreciate that,” James says. He turns to go through the house and out the kitchen door as Jiron exits through the front door. Giving Ezra and Arkie a quick nod, he leaves the house and makes for his workshop.

Once inside, he closes the door and relishes the peace and quiet of it. Before resuming his tests, he sits at the workbench and tries to calm himself and to get his mind to stop churning about the interruption.

Picking up another of the crystals that lay on his workbench, he rolls it between his fingers absentmindedly as he recalls the spell he used the last time. When he thinks he’s remembered it exactly and his mind is better able to focus, he takes the crystal and places it on the table after clearing a spot for it among the shattered remains of his previous experiments.

He moves back to where he was before and then concentrates only briefly before letting the magic flow. This time he lets it go quickly and braces himself for the crystal to shatter, but it remains intact.

The leeching of magic from him begins and the reddish glow can be seen growing within it as it holds more power. When it darkens to a deep crimson, he backs a few more steps away nervously, just in case. But, as before, the crystal reaches a certain point and the leeching diminishes until it’s almost imperceptible.

He watches it for several minutes, giving it time to explode if it was going to and then starts toward the table where he picks up the crystal. The deep crimson color isn’t a light, it’s simply a part of the crystal. The leeching of power suddenly stops altogether. Must’ve reached its limit so it shut down.