"Almar Gothurdle and the Silver Bane: Chapter 1" by Jermaine Leroy Joseph

Almar Gothurdle and the Silver Bane

1:

The creature ran for the tower of Calm Spire, sprinting through the heavy rain and haze, its black coat glistening wetly. Down the road it ran, through streets that lay empty with the ill weather. Seconds later it had disappeared into the gloom, another insignificant sighting in an insignificant village.
Almar Gothurdle turned away from the view of the village below, his mouth a drawn line of displeasure. The world was an image of greys and browns, shadows and candlelight. Sounds of raucous laughter came from a large building, its wooden rooftop drummed loudly by the rain. His quick eyes picked out the creature again as it darted between the last houses before the tower. He had no time to wonder at what the thing was, no time to stand about looking about the wilds of this small village. With a shiver, Almar pulled his hood lower to stop the rain from dripping into his face and surveyed the path leading down to the first buildings of Calm Spire. Beside him his friend Guido sniffled, shifting his pack of belongings on his left shoulder. Finally, Guido turned his indigo eyes on the tower and the sky above it. An object swept through the sky, made of phoenix feathers that sparkled in their own light. It was a Mage Plane. Their Mage Plane; except they had missed it.
Finally Guido spoke. “It looks like we’ll have to rest here awhile.” Almar nodded and began to walk ahead, his leg limping as the chill set in. He had grown used to this; the pain, the limp, his inability to make true haste. It made him laugh in the shadows of his own ghosts. It made him quail in the face of his own demons. “Do you think they have only one inn?”
“I do not.” Almar paused long enough to allow his companion to draw level with him. Fixing him with shaded eyes, he drew his moss covered overcoat about him and shrugged. “Indeed, they may not even have an inn.” The statement made them both chuckle. Of course, Almar ended his mirth quickly. “No, they have an inn. Like as not, it will be that one over there, with the flat wooden roof and twin chimneys.” He pointed and Guido turned to look, nodding thoughtfully as he peered through the rain. “But, in this place, I have no idea what currency they use.” He paused and then began to limp along again, Guido walking with a frown beside him down the steepening path. “Let us hope they share existence’s common love of gold.”
They were climbing by the time they reached midway down the path, their feet finding footholds in the rain slicked rocks. Even with his limp, Almar made his way quickly down the broken road, his climbing skills far surpassing that of his younger companion. By the time that they had both reached the bottom of the hill, Guido was smiling with vigour and the pain had left Almar. He looked up towards where they had climbed, and frowned, sure that he had seen something watching them. When he blinked, and it had gone, Almar dismissed it out of hand and turned to his present goal. Allowing his friend to lead, Almar thought on how they had been late for the Mage Plane, and his mood soured him into a glum quiet. Perhaps knowing that silence was best, Guido walked ahead.
They had woken early enough, packed and ready to leave. Their inn had not been too far from the next city, and the sun had been shinning so brightly that blindness of senses had not been an issue. Yet they had come across a strange man, a small wizened thing that hopped like an animated pogo. The man, who had called himself Mule, had spoken to them in riddles about the moon and vampires, and the woods of faraway lands. And then, just as they had convinced themselves that Mule, the hopping man of the wild, was merely a madman he had sprinted off with Almar’s bags, gurgling laughter as Guido gave chase. They had gotten the bag back, of course. And everything, including the Mage Plane tickets decorated with the golden emblem of a ten pointed star, had been present. But time had been lost. They had been late, and the tickets had counted for nothing, and all they had taken with them in their long trek to catch an alternative method to their true destination had been the ravings of a loony; a loony by the most uncommon name of Mule.
“All this to see the famous ruins of a long forgotten city…?” Almar muttered to himself. It didn’t seem right that so much trouble could have been caused from one desire, one aim. One madman… for some reason he could not get Mule from his mind. He had met plenty of insane people, and the hopping little madman had been anything but mad. There had been some measured clarity in his eyes that spoke of wisdom, not craziness.
“Perhaps he was just a common thief. Not all thieves are mad are they?” Guido turned, walking backwards with a sharp grin, a finger tapping his temple. Sometimes Almar forgot that Guido possessed many abilities that were not normal, even from where he came from. He could not read people’s minds; no that would be impossible. But he could sense emotions and from that judge what they thought. And Guido was a good judge of things. “You forget that you are rarely puzzled on the road. And since we have met that man, the only puzzlement you have felt is towards him, or when you dwell on his mannerisms.” Guido tripped on a stone, fell into a puddle and stood hurriedly, shaking his cloak free of mud. His face was a picture of grim disgust. Allowing a smile to ghost onto his features Almar shook his head, and pointed at the first houses that lined the road.
“It was left, I believe.” Guido frowned, his indigo eyes trying to see into the haze of heavy rain and rising fog. Even in the gloom his eyes gleamed with the hint of magic he possessed. Almar thought it was a shame really. The man was quite poor at using any magic. “As I said: Let us hope they like gold.” With a grunt, Almar led the way, drawing his hood lower to hide his features. It was not that he did not want to be seen. Rather, he did not want to be recognised. Guido, smiling, threw off his hood and draped his blue cloak about him like a blanket. Like wraiths in water they walked the shadows, past candlelit houses and the sound of children reading aloud. They recognised none of the stories they heard, but had expected no less. Above them, in the distance, Calm Spire rose like a needle of darkest stone, its highest balcony the only part of the tower with windows. Guido paused to stare at them momentarily, and Almar walked on. Whatever had troubled the man, he would tell in good time.
When Guido joined him by the shadow of the inn, he seemed confused, his black hair concealing his startling eyes. Saying nothing at all, Almar waited, looked at the inn and then sighed. Guido had their gold. He would have to wait.
“I’ve never heard of this place.” His friend said lowly, almost a hiss. He seemed vehement about his ignorance, yet he dragged himself from his thoughts and eyed the inn himself. “There isn’t a stable.” He said. Almar looked about, startled he had not noticed and nodded.
“Perhaps they do not ride beasts here.” He thought of the sleek creature he had seen rushing towards the tower of Calm Spire and shivered in the rain. It seemed to be slowing down some. That was good. He couldn’t imagine staying here till the rain let up. Not this place. There was something about this village, and its tower and its shadows.
“Something weird…” Guido chuckled. “Frightened? I’m surprised at you Almar.” He ran a dripping hand through his hair and mumbled. Almar said nothing. What could he say? How could he deny what he felt when the man was actually using… whatever it was that he called it now. For some reason, Guido never found any name good enough for this particular talent.
“Let’s just get inside.” So saying, Almar exhaled deeply and peered up at the grey stone walls of the inn. He suddenly felt stupid. How could anyone be afraid of resting? Guido shrugged but didn’t move. With a grunt, Almar began to head off out of the shadows. It was then that the woman stepped before him, coming from about the corner they had just rounded. “Blinding Hell woman are you mad? You can’t just leap from the shadows like some… some woman…” Almar turned to look for Guido and frowned. For someone that had little skill with magic, the man sure knew how to pull his tricks. His friend had gone. “Listen, I have no money to give.” It was truthful enough. Guido had all the gold. He himself had a few copper pieces but that was about all. “I don’t have anything to give.”
“I do not wish you to give me anything, Almar Gothurdle.” Almar started, but managed to keep some semblance of calmness about him. “Good. Denials are pointless, Master Gothurdle. I bring you a warning.” He tried to see her face, and realised that he could not. She wore a shawl about her features, made of black cloth. Only green eyes peeked from the shadows. And her figure sat shrouded behind black robes that hung to the wet cobbles of the road. It was a strange assortment of clothes, Almar thought, but he was more intrigued to know how he was known when he had never heard of this place, as Guido had himself stated. “I bring you a warning.” She seemed to be waiting on something.
“Indeed. Then out with it.”
“Beware the Bane.” The woman pointed, and Almar turned to see no one there. When he turned back he found himself face to face with Guido.
“Did you see that woman?” Almar asked frantically. “You must have cast eyes upon her!” Guido looked around him, his face portraying no emotion, his eyes blank. When he turned back, the eyes seemed to glow. “What are you up to, Guido?”
The man smiled widely. “Nothing,” he ran his eyes over the shadows and frowned. “But I felt determination and puzzlement, from you and another when you turned to the inn. I took it upon myself to see if they have any rooms. They do, and I paid for them. They wanted our names, and I said that I firstly had to put away my horse.” He waved his hand and the familiar image of a black stallion appeared in the glow cast by the open door of the inn. It was an illusion that Guido had become adept at casting. “Whoever it was is gone now.” He said jovially. “And, regardless…” He looked at the inn. “They have mutton and chicken.” Almar nodded and made for the inn before turning back. “I’ll be in there soon. Have to make it realistic, Almar.” He began to gather the reins to him, and the image flickered some. Almar drew back his drenched hood.
“She knew my name.” He said quietly to Guido, before walking into the light. He did not see the frown that creased Guido’s features as he waved a hand, and the image fell away. It was a frown of worry. It was a look that said that perhaps they had not left behind the mysteries solved by Almar; that something was wrong that had something to do with magic. With a shrug, Guido composed his features, feeling with his mind. No one hid in the shadows. Whoever it was had been frightened to reveal themselves before him. No, not themselves, herself… Almar had said she.
Quietly, Guido made his way into the bright light of the inn.
The innkeeper was a fat man, his stout gut positively trying to rip open the apron he wore tied about his waist. His face, which was almost as red as a tomato, beamed at Almar as he entered and seemed to cock slightly to on side, like a strange pigeon. Immediately, although he found it strange, Almar felt he could trust this man. Perhaps it was the badges that covered his sleeves, each one a different shade of a different colour. Each one saying in bold letters: INNKEEPER. Either way, Almar mad his way down the long corridor, vaguely aware of how strange a place this was. Behind him, he could hear Guido close the main door. Above, like an echo, he could hear the rain drumming on the roof with its twin chimneys.
The corridor, fortunately, was well lit. Electric lights gleamed in a constant row towards the innkeeper and his little wooden desk. The carpet ran like a red tongue and Almar wondered whether Guido would have entered had the lights been out. Pausing to peer at the lights, Almar saw that the iron wires gleamed with a reddish tinge. Shrugging, he made his way to the desk and waited for Guido to join him. Of a sudden, he realised that the corridor was not all that wide at all.
“Masters, I trust you found a convenient place for your… animal.” The fat man’s voice erupted outward, sounding like flatulence. “You must forgive my trepidations. We have no creatures named a… a horse in Calm Spire.” The man stood slowly, as though the effort of even using his legs to support himself drained him terribly. “My name is Mr. Green. I am the innkeeper here.” He pointed at his many badges, chose one and thrust it slightly towards them. Guido nodded amiably, but his eyes held the sparkle of humour. “You see, I am the innkeeper.” The man seemed satisfied that they understood and fair fell into his armchair. Almar saw that it had only one arm and frowned.
“Well, listen to me my good man…”
“…My good innkeeper, not my good man.” The fat man interrupted.
“Fine then, listen here my good innkeeper.” Mr. Green grinned widely, revealing teeth that looked like a horses. Guido actually laughed outright. The innkeeper, thinking that the dark haired man was laughing at Almar, also chuckled. Frowning pensively, Guido continued. “What are our rooms? Where are they? Have you the keys?” The man laughed harder, and his jowls wobbled on the side of his face. There came a strange creaking from the armchair as though the seat was on its way to collapsing. Guido wiped tears of laughter from his face. Mr. Green, glad to see someone laughing, but not understanding that he was being laughed at, nodded as though to a fellow conspirator.
“Your rooms are rooms, to answer question number one. To answer your second question, I can tell you honestly that they are here.” The man smiled ridiculously.
“And where would here be exactly, sir… my good innkeeper?” Almar shook his head in exasperation. He just wanted to sit down and eat. He wondered whether it was still raining outside. He would prefer the rain to this.
“Why it is here, the inn. My inn: The Baffled Donkey.” Guido barked a laugh and held his sides. Almar wondered if perhaps his friend might not have better luck in gaining them entrance to their rooms, and the inn proper. His own wit was fairly used up. “And your third question puzzles me. Are you sane, sir?” Almar nodded, his eyes narrowing. He wondered whether he had his rifle inside his pack or if Guido had it. The look that his companion cast him made him sigh. Guido had the rifle.
“Look, I’m not insane. I just want to sleep.”
“Then go to your room.”
“We need keys!”
“What is a key?” Guido turned his back to the conversation and began looking at a stain in the red walls of the corridor. Even then, Almar could hear his laughter.
“Blinding Hell man, how can you not know what a key is?”
“How can you not know where your rooms are?” The man countered.
Finally, Guido came forwards. “I am Guido Head, and this is Almar Gothurdle.” Almar looked at his friend and said nothing, waiting to see what would happen.
“You mean he’s the famous mystery solver?” Guido nodded, but the man had turned to face Almar himself.
“Indeed, I am.” Almar took in a deep breath. “What door number is our room? Where in the in is it?”
“Could you show us our rooms please?” Guido interrupted, seeing that Almar was going to go into a rant. Saying nothing, the man stood shakily, swayed and nodded before belching. Almar noticed a sign on Mr. Green’s shoulder that read CHEF, below a steaming image of a cake. He hoped fervently that all was other than insinuated by a single decoration.
It turned out that the huge stain that Guido had been looking at had in fact been the door to their room. The common room, which had not been opened in a week despite the people still frolicking within, sat hidden behind the wardrobe. It seemed that the innkeeper’s wife had moved it, unaware that anyone had been inside the inn at all. Still chuckling, Guido touched the stain cautiously, the only sign to belie the casualness of his motion. Like magic the wall faded away to reveal a plain oaken door with a brass handle. Almar noticed that the door was not completely plain. Above, in iron numbers the door read 13. Although Almar wanted to comment on the stupidity of having anything to do with such a number in an inn, he remembered his previous conversations with the man and thought better on it.
“Thank you. We’ll take it from here.” The man nodded, and began his painfully slow waddle back to his seat behind the small little desk. Almar saw that it was a dinning table and snorted. Guido smiled widely, as though uncaring about how strange the day had turned. With a grunt, Almar eyed the door, wondering whether it had been magic or not. It didn’t matter. He swept inside the room, closed the door, knelt and proceeded to use a key he had once gained to lock the oaken portal. He had no care to be visited by anyone as mad as the innkeeper. Satisfied finally, he turned and grunted again, as though punched in the stomach. Guido shook his head, a smile twitching his lips.
The room was empty.
It turned out that it had just been an illusion that Guido had cast to maintain his humour, but upon seeing that Almar was displeased he had shrugged, said sorry and removed the enchantment. There were two beds, one table and a door that Almar assumed led to the bathroom. Nodding, he noticed there was no window, took a notebook from his overcoat and tossed it aside, dripping. Dumping his pack to the wooden tiles, he began to look through his pack for another notebook, found it and then looked about for a pen. Guido offered him one and then sat down on his bed, looking woefully at the ceiling. Whatever was on his mind, Almar knew that it would be best to let it lie. Writing into his notepad, he jotted down a description of their day, and of the room. He also noted that their room had no windows. He didn’t know if it was important or not, but then he never did until something came up. No one did.
Again now, he cast a practised eye over the room, discerning that they had candles instead of the electric lights form the corridor. Intrigued, he also noted this down. Not that he expected a mystery in this sleepy place, but it was habit to take things into account and catalogue what he saw. Frowning, he wrote down his exact conversation with the woman outside the hotel, shaking his head in remorse when he realised that he had forgotten to at least get a name. All he had was the alluring green eyes. It was a start. Besides, it was probably a crazy that lived in Calm Spire, a person that knew his name and… Shaking his head, Almar put the notepad into his trouser pockets, wondered whether the hotel had radiators, and then thought better of saying anything. Instead, he went to see what lay behind the door.
It was, as he had thought, a bathroom and a toilet combined. The latter being a delicate looking thing that seemed quite new considering that Calm Spire sat in the back end of almost nowhere. And the bath was just that; a tub with a three taps and a plughole. Someone had taken the plug away though. Only the string remained, draped over the middle tap. Upon closer inspection he saw that the taps were marked: HOT COLD WARM. He had expected no less. In fact, the inn itself, besides the innkeeper, had met every one of his expectations. It was just, plainly and simply, another inn. A stain in the bath made him lean closer until he heard the sound of the innkeeper’s armchair squealing in protest. It drew him away from his menial inspection.
“We won’t ever see the ruins, you know?” Guido called to him. Standing straight, he cast a final glance about the room and then blew out the candle. “We’ll never see London.”
“We shall. Go to sleep, you moron. Tomorrow we are going to see what Calm Spire truly has to offer. Blow out the candle, it is closest to you.” He made his way in the darkness to his bed and lay down, not even bothering to take off his wet clothes. After a moment of discomfort, he changed clothes in the shadows, throwing his wet garments into some unknown corner. He had no sense of direction in the darkness. He never had. As he lay down again, wrapping himself in the supplied covers, he caught a glint in the twilight and started. It was Guido, his indigo eyes burning through the night.
“And what do you think we’ll find here, Almar?”
For a whole minute Almar did not answer. He was thinking now upon the crazed man that hopped on one leg, and then on the woman who had come from the shadows as quietly as his young friend had done. She had allured him, perhaps placed some enchantment on him. He wondered who had given her the message. He wondered too much. In the silence that followed the glint of Guido’s eyes faded.
“Almar… I think that it’s a bad idea to stay here long. Dangerous even; more dangerous than anything in the city.”
“I know.” Almar muttered. “Go to sleep.”
“There is something wild here.” Guido hissed softly, as though afraid to wake something. “What do you hope to find? Is it that woman? What did she say to you?”
“Nothing… she said nothing.” Almar rolled over, to turn aside from the gleaming of those indigo eyes. “And I hope to find nothing. I hope…”