Dragon Mage 3 Chapter 14: Revelations (Patreon)

 367 days until the Arkon Shield falls

I awoke the next morning feeling more rested and refreshed than I had felt a long time. I’d spent the entirety of yesterday afternoon and last night doing… nothing. Nothing except talking, eating, drinking, and enjoying the company of the people around me. It had not been a wild night by any means, but it had been pleasant, and I was glad Tara and Lance had not let me run off. 

I needed that, I thought, rising slowly to my feet and going about my morning routine.

“He’s up!” William sang from the other room. “He’s up!”

I smiled. From the sound of it the boy had been waiting impatiently for me to rise for some time. I was in Thursten’s house. The tavern was the center of last night’s celebrations and had been too rowdy for me—or anyone else—to get any sleep. Thursten had offered me a place to stay, and I’d gladly accepted. 

At a polite knock, I strode toward the door and opened it.

“Morning, Jamie,” William said brightly.

“You’re up early,” I said, returning his greeting.

“Early?” he repeated, his nose crinkling in disgust at the notion. “The sun has been up for hours!” Before I could respond, he turned about. “Come on, grandfather is waiting in the kitchen with breakfast.”

Chuckling, I followed on the heels of the much faster boy.

In the kitchen, I found not only Thursten waiting, but Arneson as well. We exchanged greetings then sat down to a hearty breakfast.

“So,” Thursten said, when we were all done, “what are your plans today, Jamie?”

“I have some spellcrafting to do and a fair bit enchanting to perform,” I replied easily. “But before all that I need to speak to Jhaven.”

He nodded. “I suspected as much. Arneson and I would like to be there for that.”

About to take another sip from my cup, I paused. “Why?”

“We’re worried about the mages and what their presence in the lair might represent,” Arneson said quietly.

“I am, too, but—” I stopped, finally noticing the somber expressions both men wore. “Has something happened?”

Arneson and Thursten exchanged glances.

“Tell me,” I demanded, setting my cup down.

“Nothing has happened—not in the way you mean,” Thursten said soothingly. “There have been no further incidents or sightings.”

I relaxed slightly.

“But,” Arneson went on, “earlier this morning—” 

He broke off at my pointed look out the window and the sun still hanging low in the sky.

“Arnie and I are early risers,” Thursten explained ruefully. “We’ve been up since sunrise.”

“Right, got it.” I turned back to Arneson. “Go on.”

“We visited Jhaven,” he said. “And we took the mages’ belongings along with us.”

I sat up straight. “What did he say?”

“Nothing,” Thursten reported. “The shaman is refusing to talk.”

I frowned. “What? He can’t do that. The contract he agreed to is enforced by the Trials. If he refuses to share what he knows, he risks death!”

“Not if the matter doesn’t have anything to do with the orcs,” Arneson disagreed.

I stared at him.

“Jhaven’s contract does not force him to provide us with information on anything outside of how the Trials works or the Orcish Federation,” Arneson expanded. He grimaced. “That was an oversight on all our parts.”

“Yes, it was,” I murmured, my mind running over the implications. “So, he recognized the gear you showed him?”

“I’d say so,” Thursten said.

“And said nothing?” I prompted.

“Well, he did say we’re all doomed, and he was a fool for ever agreeing to our terms,” Arneson said morosely.

“I see,” I said, sitting back. 

“We think you should try talking to him,” Thursten said. “You might have better luck.”

“Sten’s right,” Arneson added, “he responds better to you than he does to us.”

I rose to my feet. “Alright, let’s go see what else he has to say.”

✵ ✵ ✵

Arneson, Thursten, and I crossed the village in short order. Despite the two men’s statement to the contrary, the day was still young and the settlement quiet.

Entering the tunnel section where Jhaven was being kept, we found Daryl standing guard outside the chamber. Nodding in passing to the man, we strode through the door which he held open for us. 

Crossing the barren room, Thursten seated himself at the table. I claimed the chair next to him while Arneson, shutting the door behind us, remained standing.

The oversized table held a single occupant—Jhaven. 

The orc shaman took up nearly the entirety of the space on the other side of the table and looked none the worse despite the couple of days he’d spent imprisoned underground. His eyes still had the same mocking light, and his green robes—a richer shade than his skin—were as immaculate as ever. Only his white-ash staff was missing. But that was in my keeping already.

“So, you’re back, dog,” Jhaven said lazily to Thursten. His gaze skipped to me. “And you brought company.”

“Jhaven,” I greeted, my lips thinned. “You still haven’t learned any respect, I see.”

“For humanity? You’ve done nothing to earn it, worm.”

“We captured you, didn’t we?” Arneson shot back.

Jhaven waved his right hand dismissively. “Mere trickery. Hardly worthy of praise.”

I sat back in my chair. “And what happened to Captain Fagan, was that… trickery too?”

The orc shaman stared at me coldly for a drawn-out moment before answering. “No. It was luck.”

I smiled. “It was not. And you know it.”

Jhaven said nothing.

My eyes drifted to the lair loot spread out on the table. Jhaven had been examining the dead human mages’ things when we entered, but now he was steadfastly ignoring them—to hide his keen interest, I suspected.

“You know why we are here,” I said, picking up Hawthorn’s staff. “Who made this?”

Jhaven folded his arms across his massive chest, nearly upsetting the table in the process. “I don’t have to tell you. My contract—” 

“Your contract, yes, yes, I know. It doesn’t cover this situation. All the same, I’m asking you to tell me.”

Jhaven’s lips curved up in a slow smile. “No.”

The single uttered word echoed loudly in the empty room.

I didn’t react. A reaction was exactly what the orc shaman wanted, and I wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction. Somewhat surprising, though, neither Arneson nor Thursten responded either. They were taking their lead from me, I supposed.

“A human mage wielded this, you know,” I went on, ignoring Jhaven’s refusal to answer. “And that one, and that,” I added, pointing out the other staffs. “Six human mages.” I met the shaman’s gaze. “All of whom were hiding inside Shadowdeep. What do you suppose they were doing in the lair?”

Jhaven’s eyes narrowed fractionally, but he said nothing.

“Did you know they were there when you sent Arneson racing the same way? Because if you did—” 

“I did not,” Jhaven said abruptly. 

“Because if you did,” I said, speaking over him, “we would consider that a breach of your contract, even if the Trials does not. And where do you think that would leave you, Jhaven?”

The shaman remained silent. 

But Jhaven knew what I was driving at even if he didn’t want to admit it. I waited him out, the seconds ticking by.

“Dead,” he spat out finally.

“Yes, dead,” I continued, as if he had not just attempted to avoid admitting the fact. “Because if we cannot trust your information, if we don’t believe you will not twist the truth to ensnare or otherwise kill us, what reason do we have to keep you alive?”

“None,” Arneson growled right on cue.

“Exactly.” I leaned across the table. “So, Jhaven, convince us. Tell us why we should believe it was not orcs who sent those human mages to do their bidding.”

The shaman’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t respond angrily as he obviously wanted to. “No shaman would waste his mage-slaves, so,” he said, his voice carefully controlled. “Dogs you, you humans may be, but you’re valuable dogs all the same.” His gaze fixed on me. “Some of you, anyway.”

Thursten snorted in disgust at the insults. He didn’t interrupt, though.

“Oh?” I asked skeptically—and I was skeptical of Jhaven’s statement if perhaps not as much as I was making out. “It does seem awfully convenient, though, doesn’t it? Six human mages lying in wait to ambush Sanctuary’s leader in the very lair you sent him to.”

I didn’t really think Hawthorn and his fellows had been in the lair to ambush us, but I saw no problem with letting the orc believe that I did.

“No orcs owned those humans,” Jhaven insisted from between gritted teeth.

“Then who did?” I retorted.

“Not orcs,” was the infuriating response.

Sighing, I rubbed at my temples. “Jhaven,” I chided, “we’re going to need more than that if you expect us to believe you.”

Silence.

“How did you know about the lair?” I asked, trying another tack.

“Our patrols found it days ago,” Jhaven replied, answering easily enough this time. He pointed to Arneson. “I only told that one about it because he insisted on knowing the exact routes our people used.”

“Does the lair have another entrance?”  I asked.

Jhaven frowned. “Not that I know of.”

“What about Shadowdeep itself?” I asked, testing the limits of what the shaman was willing to say and not say. “Do your people know what lies inside?”

Jhaven shook his head. “No. Only the Trials can see inside an unowned lair.” A glimmer of something—curiosity, perhaps?—entered his eyes. “Why, what did you find?”

“You mean besides six hostile mages?” I asked wryly. 

A trace of amusement flickered across his face. “Yes, besides them.”

I pursed my lips, wondering for a moment how much to say, but if the shaman was going to remain in the village for the full year of his contract, he would find out the truth soon enough. “We encountered shadowcats.”

“Ah,” Jhaven exclaimed, his eyes flaring, and this time there was no mistaking his interest. 

Now, why would knowing that excite—

I broke off, a half-remembered memory surfacing, something Jain had once told me about Jhaven... The orc shaman had been searching the forest for mythical beasts when he’d captured the Order party. Could I use that?

“What’s so interesting about shadowcats?” I asked, pursuing the new thread the shaman had left dangling.

“They’re moderately rare beasts,” Jhaven replied. “And their tusks are especially prized alchemical ingredients.”

“Alchemical ingredients… fascinating.” Setting my elbows on the table, I steepled my fingers. “You’re an earth mage, correct?”

Jhaven seemed puzzled by the turn the conversation was taking but nodded, anyway. “That much is obvious.”

And it was. Not only because the shaman seemed to favor the color green a lot, but also because his staff was inset with four elemental crystals of earth. “Do you also dabble in alchemy?”

He snorted. “I do more than dabble.”

“Of course,” I murmured. “Then, the shadowcats’ remains are of some value to you.”

Jhaven’s eyes narrowed as he saw where I was going. “Do you seek to buy my cooperation, worm? I am not so easily bought. A few shadowcat tusks mean nothing.”

“Jhaven, Jhaven,” I said sorrowfully. “Have you not yet realized the full implications of your capture? You are going to be stuck in this village for a year. What else are you going to do with your time but craft?”

The shaman stared impassively at me. “Are you promising to keep me supplied with alchemical ingredients for the duration of my… stay here?”

I shook my head. “I’m promising no such thing. But I am offering to give you the shadow tusks we’ve collected in exchange for what you know about the dead human mages.”

Jhaven snorted. “That’s hardly a fair trade. What I know is worth more than a few paltry tusks.”

“Did I say anything about few?” I countered. “How about a whole lair’s worth?”

He laughed. “There is no way your people can make good on that promise, human. Shadowcats are Seasoned ranked creatures. Your people will not be able to clear the lair.”

I smiled. “Who said we haven’t already?”

Jhaven snorted. “There’s little chance of that. The lair boss will be—"

“—a shadowlion,” I finished for him. “We know.”

Jhaven stared at me, and I could see the questions swimming behind his eyes.

“When will you learn to stop underestimating us, Jhaven?”

The shaman stared at me for a moment longer, and whatever he saw in my face seemed to convince him. “You killed the lair boss?”

“It’s dead,” I agreed.

He began to lean forward but caught himself in time. “And you will give me its tusks, teeth, and claws, too?”

I rubbed my chin, pretending to consider the question. “How rare are shadowlions?”

“Rarer than shadowcats,” Jhaven hedged.

“That makes them what, legendary creatures?” I guessed.

He shook his head.

“Epic beasts then?” I persisted.

Jhaven nodded reluctantly.

“Well, in that case, you can have either the shadowlion’s remains or the shadowcats’. Not both.”

Jhaven’s lips tightened unhappily, but he didn’t decline my proposal. “And in exchange, what do you want?”

“Everything you know about the dead human mages and who sent them,” I replied.

Jhaven’s answer was a long time coming, but I wasn’t worried. What I offered him was too tempting. He wouldn’t refuse.

“You have a deal, human,” he said eventually.

“Good.” I sat back in my chair again. “Then, go on, we’re listening. Tell us who sent the mages.”

“The svartalfar.”

Momentary silence descended into the room, then Thursten cursed. 

I felt like doing so myself. Dark elves, I thought, my heart sinking as I recalled the untold destruction they had wreaked on Earth’s cities before the gates closed. Why does it have to be them?

“Explain,” I ordered peremptorily.

Jhaven gestured to the staffs. “I recognize the weaves of the enchantments used in that Focus. It’s a svartalfar design.”

I didn’t ask him if he was sure. It was clear he was. “They have a Sponsored city nearby? In which direction does it lay?”

Jhaven chuckled darkly. “Oh, it’s much worse than that. They must’ve come through the valley’s northern pass.”

Arneson sucked in a breath. “That northern one? That means…”

The shaman nodded. “That’s right, human. The svartalfar border the Human Dominion to the north. And this settlement is one of the first they’ll invade once the Arkon Shield falls.”