Chapter Fourteen - A Return

  51st Day of Spring - Year 1758 of the Golden Era

  The shores of Yellowfield, the Sapphire Ocean, Draya Calyrex

  The ship's watch noticed a glimmering light on the piers of Shorefarm just a scant few minutes after the sunset. Maldrak was impressed. He wasn't even certain if the puppets would survive their first outing, and yet here they were, returning early.

  He gave the go-ahead to the ship's captain, and their boat was lowered into the choppy evening ocean with four stout sailors aboard.

  While they rowed out towards the distant town, he called something of a general assembly in his office. The room only had so much space, so the number of people he could invite was limited. Still, he called upon several trusted members of his crew and some experts whose opinions he desired.

  Magus Suffragus Nocthorn came, as a representative of the younger faction of mages aboard the Gentle Tidings. Mage-Knight Jorvin Ashheel was there as a close confidant and also the leader of their ground forces, as limited as those were at the moment. The captain, of course, was in attendance, and Artisan Artificer Magus Woodbone, as well as his ever-present son, came along as well.

  "So, what's all this about?" Woodbone asked. As the only other Magus of the same rank as Maldrak, he could afford to be somewhat less than polite. Not that rank had ever stopped the man from speaking his mind.

  He might have been a richer, more renowned artificer if his prickly attitude didn't stand in the way of his own greatness so often. Maldrak was happy to have him aboard, regardless.

  "The captain's good men are fetching our puppets now," Maldrak said. They ought to be on their way back. Hopefully with something good to report."

  "Good might be an overstatement," Jorvin said as he leaned back into a plush armchair. "I've eyed the coastline. No ships in sight, Viremire in flames, no sign of the army. Back home I had only just heard rumours that something vile might have gone down in Draya Calyrex, but here it seems as if even the worst rumours were greatly understated."

  "Indeed," Maldrak said. "I think it's about time I illuminate some of what I know."

  Jorvin nodded. "You've been preparing for this trip across the ocean for a month, at least. Rumours were only just starting to fly when we left. I'm no diviner, but I sense that you might have known that something was happening before it happened."

  The young magus, Nocthorn, sat up a little at the revelation, but she kept to herself.

  "The truth is," Maldrak began, but there was a knock at the door before he could begin. "Enter," he called out.

  The door opened, and one of his manservants bowed by the entrance. "The puppets are here, milord," he said before stepping aside.

  The three puppets walked into the room.

  "Wyrm's ass breath, what happened to you lot?" Magus Woobone asked as he took the three in. In his defence, the puppets seemed to be worse for wear.

  The green one was missing a leg... somewhat. The foot was stuck in a pouch by its side, and they'd clearly fashioned a pegleg of sorts to retain some mobility. It looked as though it had been lit aflame as well.

  The red puppet looked like someone had gone to town on it with a hammer, crushing in its chest with repeated blows. One of its arms was mangled as well, covered in deep bite marks.

  By contrast, the blue puppet was merely quite dirty, covered in blood and mud like the others, but otherwise intact.

  "Welcome," Maldrak said. "I would offer you seats, but as you can tell, there is a limited amount of space here, and I believe that you don't need the rest. Though you certainly need repairs."

  "Yes," the green puppet said with a nod.

  He nodded back. "Let's put off our prior discussion, gentleman, lady," he said to his companions before gesturing to the puppets. "Report, if you would."

  The puppets paused, then looked at each other, at least the blue and green ones did. "We... go town. Go see... pe-ple. Dogs. Attack?"

  Woodbone snorted. "I'd say that I'm impressed that you're this articulate after just one day, but truly this is barely coherent."

  "Give them a chance," Maldrak said. "You encountered some people in Shorefarm, then? Peasants?"

  The green puppet nodded. "Mad. Angry. They... attack. Bodies. Lots of bodies. With magic. Lord of town... mad."

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Maldrak hummed. "Did you encounter the lord of the town directly?"

  The puppet shook its head. "Far."

  "I see. Probably for the best. A lord would have a much greater degree of resistance to the madness spreading across the land. They may have martial training as well," he said.

  "With only a few days of combat training, I can't see our dear puppets here enduring against a trained warrior," Jorvin said. "Though, they might have. How'd you get that mace?"

  Maldrak glanced at the item that the green puppet was using as a walking stick. It was, in fact, a mace with a metal head. "Fight... light-house," the green puppet said. "Big... man."

  "A lighthouse keeper," Nocthorn said. "They must have been associated with Thalmyrion. I believe that's the dragon lord in charge of all the lighthouses along the coast."

  "Indeed," Maldrak said. "And that mace matches their weapons of choice. I'm impressed you survived an encounter with such a well-armed man."

  The puppet paused, then shrugged before gesturing at her leg. "Hard."

  "I imagine," he said. "Well done, in any case. Your return alive and... mostly whole, bids well for the rest of this excursion." He took a deep breath. "Do you have anything else to report?"

  The puppet nodded. "Blacksmith. By Shore. Nice? Blind. Gave... This." Reaching to her side, she pulled at a small device hooked to her satchel.

  "Ah, that's just a gem light, isn't it?" Magus Woodbone said. "A simple artifice, used by peasants to create light without flame."

  "Captain, do we have a smith onboard?" Maldrak asked.

  The captain shook his head. "No sir. We have some men who know some metal working, but not proper smithing."

  "Good find, then," Maldrak said to the puppets. "We'll make securing the smith a priority, then."

  "Maldrak," Jorvin said. "What is the point of all this? The continent seems to have lost its mind, and here we are, sending puppets to poke and prod at the corpse of it."

  Maldrak reached up and ran a hand along the side of his jaw. Idly, he realized that he needed to shave. Time at sea was disrupting his normal schedule. "Draya Calyrex has fallen. Some will rush to its carcass to make themselves wealthy, and I will admit some interest in the same. A nation as prosperous as this one, suddenly having all of its wealth unguarded for the taking... it will attract adventurous sorts, mercenaries, and more. But the reason we're here is... something else. In fact, it is twofold. First, we need to know what has befallen this land, to prevent the loss of civilization from spreading across the world itself. And second... I do not advertise the fact very widely, but I do have a daughter. She is a talented Magus Discipulus at the Avaris Myrcana Academy. If the nation has fallen, then there's still a chance that the academy is holding its own. This location, by the Yellowfields, is not so distant from the Academy."

  "So, this is a rescue operation?" Jorvis asked as he sat up. "Give me ten good men and a boat to get to the shore, my friend, and I'll have your daughter back in a fortnight."

  "No," Maldrak said. "The risk is far too grand. And I believe that if we are to breach the academy itself, I will need to be present. Trust in this plan of mine, please. If all else fails, then perhaps we will risk a suicidal run towards Avaris Myrcana ourselves, but there is a better way."

  Jorvis stared at him, then sat back. "Fine," he said.

  "Thank you," Maldrak said. He turned to the puppets. "Have you gathered much essence?" he asked.

  The green one nodded, and the slat at the front of her chest moved down, revealing the small essence counter. It sat around the upper three hundreds. More than enough.

  "Good. Magus Woodbone, could you begin the transfer?"

  "Overnight?" the artificer asked.

  "It will give them an entire day to become used to their new bodies," he said. "That's as much time as we can afford to give them. Past that and we may begin to run out of time, though I'm not certain that the disaster unfolding in the continent is a rapid one."

  "Body?" the puppet asked.

  "Indeed," Maldrak said. He sat up, then eyed each of them in turn. "So far you've done an admirable job on the task I set out for you. Let me prove that I can make your loyalty worthwhile. Serve me well, do as I ask, help me discover what happened on this mainland, and save my kin, and I'll reward you with a life better than the ones you lost."

  ***