We found it shocking, ironic really, that the greatest threat to the Eight, were the wounded. The King of Joy, tormented by guilt for sins he never committed. The Tethyd magi, hurt and almost terrified of their power.
***
Maioran rolled his eyes at Finn. "I told you that food was bad. I told you the meat had spoiled."
"He had told you," Aoife noted.
Finn didn't answer. Instead, he clutched his stomach and groaned. "It didn't look like fleshrot," he moaned.
"But it reeked of it," the eel Tethyd snapped. "Why didn't you listen?" he asked the man.
Finn leaned against his pack, curled in a fetal position. Aoife was perched on a rock, sitting cross-legged, watching her guard suffer. Magnus glared at Finn, while Invidia began to carve something out of a knot of wood. Besides Finn's moaning and Invidia's whittling, the camp was quiet.
Callan was out with Tieoran, making him run more laps. Maioran's little brother was beginning to grow. Now, when Tieo curled up against Maioran when going to sleep, he wasn't just bones wrapped in fish scale. Finn had offered to teach him swordsmanship. After he suffered from that foul meat.
"Bloody Tethyd, I thought you'd hoard it for yourself." He groaned.
"Shush, Finn," Aoife said. "Let me work. I can do what we did in the Kai'Draeni provinces, when you are that salted rat. I can remove the-"
"No!" Finn said. "I'll not have your damnable sorcery inside me again! It made me sick!"
"It did upset his natural humors," Magnus said. "I expect that's a result of transpositioning the contents of his stomach outside this body."
"I believe that might be true," Aoife said, disaffectedly, seemingly unperturbed by the cries coming from her guard. Then again, fleshrot wasn't fatal. Just really, really uncomfortable.
Maioran paused, thinking for a second on his next move. Then he moved over to Tieoran's sleeping roll, grabbed his little brother's pack, and yanked out the salt box.
It was made of dark brown wood, inlaid with polished coral. Maioran opened it up, revealing scales, dozens of small bottles, and a small scoop.
He began to uncork a bottle, scattering dark sand in the scoop. He shoveled that into one of the scale weights, added a bit more sand, and then made sure the scoop was clear. And then he emptied that into a small pot.
"What are you doing?" Aoife asked, curious.
"Tieoran's magic is from his ability to make the salts work and his power over water. Any rube can mix the salt -if they know the formulae."
"And you know the formulae?" Aoife asked.
"Tieo can imbue the salts with power. He didn't know the formulae. And when he was taught, he practiced in our room. He needed a study buddy." Maioran finished scooping the sand in and sealed up the pot. And then he began to shake.
Two figures approached them. Callan was jogging towards them, his bark-like skin coated in a sheen of sweat. He wore a kilt-like garment made of colorful cloth, and for some reason, he smelled really nice. The scent was strong, like that of flowers, and even standing far away from him, Maioran could smell it.
He had changed, slowly but surely. His skin had softened, turning from hard bark to softer, more human-looking dark skin. Or it was on its way. The grass blades that acted like hair had begun to divide, looking like normal, green hair.
Tieoran also wore his kilt. He sat down on his bedroll. He looked over at his brother. "Salt of Healing?"
Maioran nodded. "Yep."
"And why are you making it?"
Finn groaned loudly. "That's why," Maioran said. Tieoran sighed and held out his hand. Maioran tossed the pot over. Tieo grabbed it and closed his eyes. A faint ring of light shone from behind his eyelids.
That was the one frightening thing about Tieoran's power. Whenever Tieoran moved the water, when he shaped it to his will, he looked like his normal self. But when he imbued the salts with power, something seemed to take hold of him. More than once, when he infused the salts with power, he had often been left with no energy, even to the point of collapse. It was as if he was being used by it.
The light faded from Tieoran's eyes. "We're good now," he said. Holding his hand out, like he was about to conduct a symphony, he pulled. Water flew from the crevices of rocks around him, from dew still left undisturbed coalesced before him. He moved his hand in a fluid motion, collecting the individual water drops into one small, fist-sized globe. He swirled that in the pot of salt and handed it to Finn. "Now," Tieoran began, "don't-"
Finn raised the pot to his lips and downed the water in one gulp.
"-drink it," Tieoran said. "It's toxic."
"Toxic?" Finn asked, jumping back. "Why would you give it to me?"
"You weren't supposed to drink it!" Tieoran said. "Don't worry. We have a little bit of time before the effects start manifesting. A day or two." He turned to Aoife. "Where's the nearest town?"
Aoife closed her eyes, and sat up straight. "Five miles that way," she said, holding her hand up. "I guess we're breaking camp early," she said.
Callan groaned, and Tieoran sighed. No rest for the weary for them.
***
The town was a small one, and Callan had Maioran's brother run with him around the entire thing. Maioran accompanied Finn, who, despite the fact that he had ingested poison, looked much better. Of course, in a day's time, the warrior would turn pale as curdled milk and start vomiting up blood. Whatever health Finn seemed to enjoy now would be taken away from him. With impunity.
That, of course, was if he didn't get the two infusions. Elydium oil and castor oil.
Elydium oil was nasty stuff. It bound up whatever was in someone's stomach and did something to the bowels and guts, making the unfortunate drinker unable to digest whatever they had eaten. It was only used for slower poisons. Like Tethyd magic salt.
Castor oil, however, did something much worse. It was disgusting, foul, and it made the drinker empty out their guts. Finn would drink the Elydium oil, prevent Tieoran's salts from being absorbed into his body, and harmlessly pass them through his bowels with the castor oil.
They would pass harmlessly, however. Not painlessly.
Aoife was the one to step into the apothecary, a small building that seemed to merge into the land it was built on. Frankly, Maioran didn't mind. The smell that leaked out was pungent. It was something Maioran could do without.
Aoife stepped out, her one uncovered focusing on them. "Finn, drink this now. Wait a few minutes, and drink this with food," she said, handing him a slender bottle. "You're lucky I value you so much. That was theft, not commerce in there." She made a disgusted look at the place. "Of course, since a few new rodent families are going to find themselves oddly attracted to the place, I think we'll be even."
Finn took the bottle and swallowed it all. "Ugh. Nasty." He handed Aoife the bottle, which she tucked into her bag. "I need to eat something."
"It won't really help," Aoife said.
"Actually," Maioran said, "it might help. Soup at least. It will help flush out the salts." The rest of them, save for Tieoran and Callan, moved towards a small inn.
Like most of the buildings in this part of Castillera, it was a squat, long building of cobble and thatch. They stepped into the building.
Castillera was an amalgamated country. With Glanwell and Danaa Talisia to the north, Alberion and Leyons across the sea, and Lisbenth to the south, and the myriad of cultures within, Castillera was a mess. Here, Maioran saw a dozen different cultures.
There were northern warriors, sitting around a fire. They wore burlap shorts, leather greaves, and pelts. Their chests were covered in swirling blue tattoos, which climbed up their thick necks and down their arms. Maioran could take one or two. Probably. Next to them, sneering in disdain at the barechested warriors, Danaan Talisian noblemen congregated around a table.
Aoife turned to a woman, standing behind an old bar laden with dusty bottles. "Can we get a bowl of soup for him?" she asked, pointing to Finn. The woman nodded, snapped an order to someone out of view, and indicated them to sit.
The five of them -Maioran, Magnus, Finn, Aoife, and silent Invidia- sat down at the table. "I'll be back," Finn said. "I saw something out there. Give me five minutes. Or ten." With that, Finn left.
Invidia spoke finally, for the first time in a day. "My guess is that he wants to check out the forge we saw back there." Maioran remembered that. He had felt the heat on his bare arms, smelled the ash and soot and molten metal. And he had noticed the fancy sword.
The door opened again, and two figures walked in. Callan had dressed like a Castilleran peasant, in a baggy canvas tunic belted around his waist. Tieoran had dressed in his sleeveless tunic.
Callan sat down in an empty chair next to Maioran. He smelled like flowers. Like an exotic, pungently sweet flower. Tieoran just stank. His chest heaving, he dropped his head against the table and groaned.
"Tired?"
"Mmh," Tieoran mumbled. Then he looked up. "Is that the castor oil?"
Maioran nodded. "Yes it is. How'd you find us?"
"Three other inns in the town. We checked one, and found this." Callan shrugged. "Lucky us.
The woman arrived, and the soup, piping hot, was placed on the table. Tieoran uncorked the bottle of castor oil, sniffed it, and grimaced. "That...is the most disgusting smell I have ever smelled. And that count's Elissera's sourfish soup." Maioran grimaced. Elissera, their mutual friend, had tried to cook them a meal. Cook all three of them a meal. However, since she had chosen sourfish, one of the nastiest, foulest, most disgusting fish to ever wiggle its way out of the sea, the stew that was supposed to be edible became a mess. A nasty mess.
It was the thought that counted.
"Well," Tieoran said, pouring it into Finn's soup, "probably better this way." Invidia sighed, and Aoife chuckled. Magnus stared, eyes wide. Tieo looked around. "What's wrong?"
"The apothecary told me to space out that in ten doses, one every two hours." Aoife sighed. "Ah, well, the drink has been poured out. It shan't go into the bottle again." Aoife looked at all of them. "Finn doesn't need to know of it. He'll know soon enough."
Tieoran set the bottle down. "Oh." He grimaced. "Poor Finn."
And with that, Finn walked back into the inn. Aoife's one uncovered eye widened, and she grabbed the bottle and hid it. "The soup!" Finn smiled and sat down, ready to eat.
"You smell like smoke." Tieoran said.
"Yeah. Was just at the forge in town. I thought about the sword the guy was selling. But then I saw his technique." Finn shuddered. "Ugh. Terrible." He took a bite of the soup. "Hmm. Odd taste." He shrugged. "Oh, well, it's food."
Maioran grimaced. Finn just signed on for a ride that he was not going to enjoy.
***
"Tieo!" Finn snarled from behind the outhouse door. "I'm going to-" His words were cut off as he moaned in pain. Probably his bowels torturing him. Turns out castor oil -especially ten doses all at once- was a maliciously effective laxative.
Needless to say, Finn was not happy.
"I'm going to leave," Tieoran said, eyes wide.
"Just remember... when I get out," Finn said, voice ragged. "I'm going to... kill you, Tieo."
"Yep. Can't wait." Tieoran turned from the outhouse to the back of the inn. There was a small yard there, right against a stream that flowed all the way through the city. And that was where they noticed the girl.
She was a young woman, maybe seventeen, and from the looks of her, a dishwasher. Maybe it was the dirty apron, the hair tied back. Or maybe it was the giant cauldron she was lugging buckets of water into. She could fit into that bloody thing!
Before Maioran could do anything, Tieoran walked over and hopped the fence, his legs and tail clearing the old, weather-worn wood posts. "Need some help there?"
The young woman jumped up with a start. "What? Um.... help? With cleaning the pot?" she asked. She paused. "Yeah. I can't get enough water to scrub the burnt stew off it."
"Oh." Tieoran paused. And then he began to unbutton his vest. "I think I can help with that," he said. "Here, Maio, hold this." He threw the vest at his brother. The older Tethyd caught it and draped it over the fence.
"What are you doing?" the young lady asked.
"Magic," Tieoran said.
"Uh-huh. And you need to take your shirt off for this magic?" she asked.
"No. I just don't want it getting wet." With that, Tieoran walked over to the edge of the stream and stuck his wrists in the water. And then, furrowing his fish-like face, he made the water flow up.
It wrapped around his chest, draining from the river. Soon enough, Tieoran was wearing what looked like an oversized padded shirt made of clear stream water. "Is this enough?"
"How in the world are you-"
"Is it enough?" Tieo asked again. The girl just nodded. The young Tethyd walked over to the pot, shoved his hands into the opening of the pot. The water sloughed off his body, crashing into the greasy cauldron. "Pass me a sponge," Tieoran said. "What's your name."
"Ramara," the young lady said, handing Tieoran a sponge. The two of them got to work. "Thanks for helping me. You really don't have to do that."
"Why not?" Tieoran asked. "I want to be helpful." He leaned in, scrubbing a rather difficult part. "I'm Tieoran, by the way. But everyone calls me Tieo."
"Okay, Tieo," the girl -Ramara- said. "Pass me the... oh, blood and thorns," she muttered. "They're back."
Maioran looked up from his spot leaning against the rough fence post. Three men, dressed like farmers and peasants, walked, laughing a bit too loud, too boisterously. They were drunk. At this hour? It was almost midday, and these louts were a few drinks away from passing out.
"Bors, Harris," Ramara said, "just...leave."
"Aww," one of the men slurred. The three of them closed the distance. "Look honey, just stop playing hard-to get. You're not fooling everyone."
She wasn't. Ramara had made her disdain clear. The three seemed to ignore Tieoran, focusing on the girl. "Come on," one of the other's said, and pawed at her.
"Back up," Tieoran said, snarling. It would have been threatening if his voice had been a few notes lower.
"Really, kid?" one of them said. "What are you going to do?"
Tieoran stuck his hand in the water. And then he struck.
The dirty, grimy water exploded out. Well, exploded wasn't the right word. It described force and power, sure, but it was chaos, uncontrollable. What Tieoran did was controlled. Three tendrils of water lashed out, throwing the drunkards back.
The water spun into a ring around him. Oh, bloody brine. He was doing that.
Tieoran spun with the water, stretched one hand out to the ring of now pure water, and snapped out, as if he was drawing a bow. The water obediently bent into the shape of a bow and arrow, the water almost clear. It looked like glass, if glass constantly shifted and moved.
"C...c...conjuring. He's bloody-"
"Shut up," Tieoran snapped. "Do you know what this is?" One of the drunks shook his head. "This is Hydragora's bow."
"What are you going to do?" one of them snapped. "Splash us?" That only showed how drunk he was.
Instead, Tieoran pointed the bow at a boulder and let go. The shaft of water burst from the arc and slammed into rock. And instead of splashing harmlessly, it pierced through it with a loud crack.
Everyone stared. Ramara moved closer to Tieoran, who reached in with his free hand, grabbing more water, and creating another shaft. "You saw what that did to rock," he said. "Just imagine what it could do to your skull."
They got the idea, scrambled to their feet, and ran. "Sorry about that," Tieo said, smiling at Ramara.
"W...who are you?" she asked.
He shrugged his bony shoulders. "Long story."
"Wait!" Maioran heard Finn shout from the outhouse, before another moan stole the words from his mouth. "What did I miss?"
"Oh, you know us. Nothing much," Maioran said. Ramara chuckled.
Finn groaned again.
"Seems like your friend is stuck there for a while," Ramara said, putting a hand on Tieo's shoulder. And then, noticing that the young man was nearly as tall as her, and not wearing a shirt, she pulled it off. "And since you're not going to be leaving any time, you mind helping me?"
Tieo shrugged. "Sure, I guess. I can try. Not too strong, though. You'll want my brother for that," he said.
"You're cute," Ramara said. "Well, you care to help?" she asked Maioran. He shrugged. "Alright. Come on. We still have to clean the bloody cauldron up."
"Wait!" Finn cried. "Don't leave-" his words cut off as another involuntary -and painful-sounding- bowel movement wracked his body. "Don't leave me alone."
Unfortunately for the guard, they did just that.