The Defender: A Haunting in East Port

One

Erik shook his head. He couldn't believe he'd heard what the visitor had said.

A man had come into the printing shop that Erik worked in. He'dasked to see the man in charge. Master Maynard, owner of the shop,brushed past Erik to meet with the man. The man wanted broadsidesprinted. When asked what they'd be for, he'd replied, "To warn folk about a haunted house." That's when Erik shook his head and looked at the stranger.

The man was about the age of his father. His head was mostly bald; what hair he had left was sandy brown. He was a heavy-set fellow, and his clothes were in good shape. He appeared to be a man of means who didn't have to do much physical labor to earn a living. Erik didn't take him to be the sort of man who be interested the unusual fears of "the common folk."

"Why should you want to warn folk about a haunted house?" Maynardasked the man.

"Perhaps if the word gets around the city, His Lordship will do something about it."

"What is His Lordship supposed to do?"

That was a good question. Their city was East Port, one of the larger port cities in the Kingdom. There was a great deal of sea trade to contend with. There was also trade from Red Hills and the interior ofthe Kingdom, trade that came down the Red Hills River. There were the odd criminals lured by all that trade, and the coins that trade produced.

Erik also knew two other reasons why such a matter might not interestthe Lord of East Port. One was that Prince George, one of his fellow mages, was planning for another voyage across the ocean. Prince George had been to the Witch Lands twice, having recently returned from his second visit. Any month now he'd come north and east to East Port for a his first voyage to the Snow Lands.

He would need help from the Lord of East Port, and perhaps one or twoof the other Lords of the region, to find ships, captains, crew, and provisions. The Snow Lands were farther from the Kingdom from the Witch Lands, if the old maps were accurate. That would mean a greater effort than the first voyage to the Witch Lands. What's more, there was no way to know if Prince George would have help from Allan in carrying out this venture.

The other matter that would be on the mind of His Lordship was thatof the "Black Ghost." Bertram, the former Lord of Crossroads, was a wanted fugitive. He'd been able to conduct a variety of crimes, including the murder of a few outlaws, without his fellow noblemen knowing his true character. He was intelligent and ruthless, and Her Majesty had warned the nobility to watch out for Bertram.

To some extent, that's also why Erik had moved to East Port. His job was to act as the Defender, when he wasn't earning a living. Since this region was where Bertram was from, Erik had to be especially vigilant.

"What would you want His Lordship to do, my good man?" Maynard asked the stranger. "Send his guards to arrest the spirit hauntingthe house? Give the spirit notice that it should leave the neighborhood?"

"That's not funny, Master Maynard."

"Fine, then. You tell me what you want His Lordship to do."

The man frowned. "Something must be done."

"Why must something be done?"

"The sounds coming from the house startle the children of the neighborhood. It's not easy to sleep, what with those odd noises, and the moaning, and the lights."

"What lights?"

"Lights that go on and off, during the night."

Maynard put a hand on the man's shoulder. "Look, friend, handbills will cost you a great deal of coins. And to what end? Have you told the guards that live near you, or pass through your neighborhood, about this house?"

"Of course. They've done nothing."

"Has a crime been committed at the house?"

"No."

"Have outlaws or beggars taken up residence in the house?"

"Not that anyone can see."

"Then what do you want done?"

"Perhaps the Defender will investigate."

"The Defender? Here? I'm sure he has more important business to take care of, like finding the Black Ghost, or keeping an eye on the nobility."

"Haunted spirits are magic, aren't they?"

"Are they?"

The man opened his mouth, hesitated, then frowned again.

"There's your trouble, friend," Maynard said. "You can't prove a crime. You can't prove magic. You can't even prove that you're in danger. Some young rogue is pulling a prank on you andyour neighbors. One night the prank will go too far, and the guard will take the rogue to jail. You'll see."

"I could go elsewhere, Master Maynard."

"I'm sure you could. I'm sure Master Roger would be happy to take your coins. If you have coins to waste, by all means, friend, visit him. Of course, you might take a lesson from that fact that he'd take your coins without question, and I wouldn't."

The man glared at Maynard for a moment, then sighed. He walked out ofthe shop with less spring in his step than when he'd come in.

Maynard turned to Erik. "You see, Erik? Better to be honest, andget the trade later, than go for a few coins now."

Erik nodded. "Of course."

"Get back to work." Maynard glanced around the shop at thehandful of men standing around. "The rest of you, get back to work. Today's little fun is over."

Erik focused on his work for the rest of the day, but the visit of the man kept returning to the edge of his thoughts. He knew Maynard was right in refusing to take the job from the man. There was little than the guard or His Lordship would do about a haunted house, and little chance they'd do anything.

But could magic be involved in the matter?

His instruction at the Royal Academy of Magery suggested that it wasn't. For one thing, magic was real. A man, or woman, born withthe ability to work magic could feel the magus in casting a spell. They could sense the force in a spell or enchantment. You would know the effect, from armor that could deflect any blow, to a wand thatcould allow you to fly.

Erik had grown up in Stonebridge. The two great stone bridges that gave the city and the dukedom their name were a product of magic. Mages had used spells to move giant blocks of stone into place. They'd used spells to burn through the wilderness to carve out the approaches to each bridge. Legend was they'd used magic to hold the blocks in place while the material to bind them together dried, sothe bridges could be used the day they were finished. Even though it wasn't until he was fourteen, and George had discovered his ability, he'd been aware of the reality of magic all his life.

Ghosts and sprits didn't seem to be quite as real. Allan and Nancy had never found one. If there were spirits to be found, they wouldhave been already, as they'd been to almost every ruin castle and manor belonging to the Great Mages. Those places could be scary, butthat was due to their condition, not to any hauntings.

Furthermore, they'd never found any ancient spells that so much ashinted at spirits. If the Great Mages had battled ghosts, or usedmagic to command them, one of them would have written that tale down, if not noted down the exact spell or enchantment. Erik couldn't believe it would be the sort of magic that would have been lost totime. It would be a legend, if nothing else.

He did have one option for taking action. He was, after all, theDefender. Part of his duty was to fly over the city at night andwatch out for crime and criminals. He could search out this "haunted"house during his nightly patrols. If he could find it, he could cast a few spells over it. He could see if some young prankster was at work, or if something more sinister was going on.

The trick will be to find it first,he noted once he was in his room over the shop. I didn't hear the man's name. Even if I had, I'm not from East Port. I don't know enough folk to know where that man lives.

Well, I can search for it. Sooner or later I'll be in the airand nearby the next time this "haunting" happens. There's no great hurry to find it.