A Soldier's Life - 419 - Artificing Apprentice

Chapter 419: Artificing Apprentice

My escort grew quiet as we neared the structure facing the Isle of the Dead. I tried to draw him out by asking why he had helped Antonia, why he returned to the Telhian Empire, but he offered nothing more than a glance and silence.

The High Sentinel was alone in the vast meeting chamber. Caracalla Lepidus left me with him, closing the heavy doors behind me. The ironwood doors shut with a reverberating thud that echoed through the stone hall.

“I think I insulted him,” I said to the elf seated alone at the head of the long table.

The High Sentinel arched a brow in interest. “What did you say to him?”

I decided to be honest. “I asked if everyone left from the First Legion was now undead.”

“Ah,” he rumbled, his voice low and resonant. “Yes. That would do it.” His face showed no indication of the reasoning.

“Why?” I asked, genuinely curious.

Rather than answer, the High Sentinel rose. He moved to the tall window behind him and unlatched the shutter. The shutters opened with a creak, revealing a view across the churning waters in the fading light. Jagged cliffs rose from the isle beyond, and atop them stood five castles. I knew there were more as we had passed at least seven, but five was all we could see from here.

He lifted a strong, veined hand from within his robes and pointed. “His Legate resides there. Lepidus became what he is today to stop his commander.”

“Stop him from doing what?” I asked, stepping closer to the window. I was almost tempted to pull my spyglass to scout the castle he indicated. Another member of the First Legion resided there.

The High Sentinel’s expression darkened. “What all greater undead eventually attempt to do: to make the living join them.”

He shut the window gently and turned back to face me. “But I asked you here to speak to you openly. I’ve read the reports Elyssara and Solvar wrote. They don’t believe you intend to stay. They granted you passage only to ensure the girl’s safe arrival since you refuse to leave her side.”

“Reports?” I echoed his words, caught off guard by how quickly news had traveled.

He nodded. “They were sent through message sending books. And Lepidus told me about the bone inscriptions he had made for you before bringing you to me. His devotion to preserving the pulse of a dying Empire is admirable… but it does not serve our purpose. We are here to keep the dead contained and protect all the living.”

“Are you going to send me back to Nausis no matter what I want? Evie will return with me.” I asked directly. My thoughts were on Evie, and I guessed she could learn enough in eight or nine months to protect herself and return with us if she wanted.

He stepped back to appraise me, and I felt the same icy chill run through me as his eyes passed over me. My mind fortress was resonating, but not being assaulted. Fenlorian’s jaw tightened a little, and he nodded to himself. “We do tend to attract a lot of otherworlders to Sanctuary. I have never seen anyone with such a mess of an aether core, though.”

“There are other otherworlders here?” Elyssara had said there were, but I had never followed up or asked if any of them were human.

He sighed. “They usually come seeking a way home since the Sentinels have existed since the Titans fell. Our library is extensive, but there is no way home for you within any of the pages there.”

My obfuscation stone hadn’t heated, so he had used something other than clairvoyant magic to examine my core. That he could read me so easily was a bit disconcerting. It didn’t make sense to deny what I was. “I have no desire to return, but if I can send Evie back, I would. She doesn’t belong here.”

A tight, controlled smile appeared on his face. “Noble of you, but as I have said, impossible.” He seemed to reach a decision. “I will not send you away from the child. You can stay. It would be difficult to remove the etchings Lepidus gave you. We wouldn’t need to remove the arms as he suggested, just the bones with the spell forms. Regrowing the bones is much easier than regrowing the entire arm and should only take a week or so.”

He smiled tightly. “However, Sanctuary’s cliffs are artificed to shield us from the effects of the nether essence the dungeons produce. Your core is larger than most, you should have a decade to decide if you want to go that far and take the purity spell form of the Sentinels.”

“The one on the skull? What does it do?” I asked, fascinated. It was not discussed at Veilmark or during the voyage here.

“It slowly pulls and expels all death essence from the body. It also provides a small amount of resistance to necromancy spells.” He scratched the back of his head reflexively. “It also itches fiercely in the presence of the undead. However, the subject must have aether circulating in their body to keep it active. I am sorry, but your small companion does not have a reflection of an aether core within him.”

He couldn’t be referring to Lesna since she had magic. “Benito?” I couldn’t help but let out a mirthful chuckle. “Figures the only one among us who really wants to become a Sentinel cannot.”

The High Sentinel's tone remained serious. “Without an aether core, he is also more vulnerable to the nether taint, even with the warding around Sanctuary. He should depart on the Salty Widow as soon as possible,” Fenlorian said regretfully.

“Will he be safe until the Salty Widow sails for Nausis in eight months?” I asked, now concerned for Benito’s well-being. I didn’t want to send him to the other continent alone, although I was pretty certain that Lesna would at least go with him.

The commander nodded slowly. “I’ll have the healers monitor him, but he shouldn’t remain here much longer. It’s likely best he sails to Bubenge. Having four months away should help him. As for your other companions, they’re welcome to receive the purity inscription, should they wish to join our ranks.” He maintained a courteous and friendly tone. I wasn’t fooled. His interest was in Evie, and he was careful not to show it outright.

“Thank you for explaining things to me,” I nodded and excused myself from his presence. Our conversation had taken some time, and dusk was settling. The night air seemed to carry a chill, and not from the temperature. The muted crashing of waves could be heard. I walked back to find my companions struggling to make dinner in the kitchen. I immediately took over and was pleased to find that the larder was well-stocked.

I had to dance around some of the elven initiates, but I made soda bread loaves, shaved some salted beef, flash-cooked the beef, used the fat to caramelize onions, and melted soft cheese on top to make cheese steak sandwiches. The envious stares of the elves kept me up cooking late into the night to share my culinary skills and make friends.

Besides us, our building housed nine elves, three dwarves, and one half-orc. The half-orc was part elvish and kept to himself. We met four of the elves during the voyage, and Lesna, Blaze, and Benito were doing their best to make friends. At least the orc took my friendship cheese steak offer, but he was not in the mood to talk. When I finished cooking, I ended up sitting with the three dwarves who were still learning Elvish.

They were all cousins sharing the same despondent view of their government. They came from the other continent, a nation called the Kondevar Domain. Instead of serving the current sovereign, they all decided it would be better to join the Sentinels. From our brief conversation, it seemed they were regretting their decision after their first year; none of them had advanced beyond the initiate level and were still struggling to think and speak Elvish.

The impromptu dinner party came to an end, and everyone retired. I followed my companions through the building, passing many empty rooms. They had chosen a block of rooms at the end of a hallway on the second floor. My small room was flanked by Blaze and Evie’s rooms, with Benito and Lesna across the hall. The room had an open closet, a long wooden bed, and a small writing desk with a stool. I would have thought that an organization that had been around for thousands of years would have had more comfortable accommodations for its new recruits.

There was a thin rolled mattress for the bed, and a pair of thick musty blankets. I took a moment to knock on Evie’s door. “How are you doing?” I asked when she opened it.

She shivered even though the room was at a comfortable temperature. “I can sense it in the air. I can almost taste the death essence.” She seemed so uncertain. “I am scared.”

Her confidence from the voyage was waning. I walked into her room, which looked just like mine, except she had a few layers of blankets to make her mattress thicker. I guessed she sneakily took them from an empty room while I was talking with the High Sentinel. One of my weasel pelts appeared in my hand, and I unrolled it on her bed. “This will help you sleep in luxury, Evie.” I reluctantly summoned my griffin-down pillow and placed it on the bed. “This pillow has never failed to comfort me. Once we're settled in, I’ll show you how to train in the dreamscape.”

I waited until she made the bed anew and got comfortable with the pillow. The pillow suited her better. I returned to my room and slept fitfully myself. I was definitely going to need to get a new Griffin pillow.

The morning sun brought the tailor to our rooms. I don’t know how he knew which rooms we occupied, but he knocked firmly on each door and announced himself. “I am Saevor Vireth. Please follow me, and we can get you properly outfitted.”

He didn’t just collect us, but also the four elves we had arrived with. Saevor’s hair was straight, almost silver, and pulled back behind his ears, secured with a silver clasp. His gray robes shimmered as we followed him into a building and down a long, winding set of stairs. He turned into a room with a heavy banded door. Inside, there were shelves upon shelves of neatly folded robes, stacks of heavy leather shoes, and folded off-yellow shirts and undergarments. There was enough inventory here for thousands of men.

He serviced the elves first, quickly taking their measurements and skillfully moving down the shelves to gather seven identical sets, except for the gray robe, which each initiate only received one. The final piece in their pile was a starburst medallion on a silk cord placed atop the folded and stacked clothes. It was the symbol of an initiate, and when they advanced to the rank of watcher, a skull would be added. The elves left to drop off their clothes in their room and make breakfast. We knew from last night that we had to meet the Sanctuary Castellan to be assigned our jobs to contribute to the operations.

“Why so many clothes?” Benito asked as he was the first of our group to step forward.

Saevor nodded, acknowledging that he had heard the question. “We bring in raw materials from each supply run, and our weavers and tailors keep themselves busy.” He indicated the shelves, “This is the result of their labors. They make such fine garments, they take years to wear down, and the High Sentinel refuses to sell the excess.”

Benito nodded appreciatively at the years of effort gone into the labor. “Do you have anything in red? Or blue?” Saevor paused, not realizing Benito was being serious, as there was no hint of color anywhere in this warehouse room.

He seemed to be searching for a comeback. “You can ask the alchemists to make a blue dye from the blueberries on the isle, but you will have to harvest them yourself.” Benito was confused, not realizing it was elf humor.

Lesna stepped in to break the awkwardness. “He will take the standard.” Saevor nodded and quickly measured Benito and gave him his stack of clothes. He proceeded through us, only having trouble with Lesna and Evie, as they usually made children’s clothes, since the handful of children on the island had grown up. They ended up getting used clothes, but they were broken in and in excellent condition.

My own stack of clothes was slightly stiff from an alchemist’s preservative. Saevor said it would take a few washes before it was completely gone. Lesna led us confidently through the maze of stairways back to the plateau, and we changed clothes. The shoes appeared to be made from some type of flexible leather. They felt a little constrictive but had excellent arch support. The pale brown coloring was not desirable, but they appeared functional, and I now had six additional identical pairs.

After having a quick meal, we were summoned by the Castellan. The elven runner was a young elf and took an interest in Evie and Lesna. One thing that was clear about Sanctuary was that there were very few women here. On the surface, it appeared to be about one in five, but we had only seen about a hundred residents so far. I guessed most of them worked deep inside the rock, like Saevor.

The Castellan’s office was next to the conference room we entered yesterday, and a man sat behind a large desk piled with papers. I recognized him as one of the men at the table. He looked up, face unreadable. “Normally, I would meet with you one-on-one and ask for your histories to see where you can best serve Sanctuary, but the High Sentinel said I should deal with you as a group.”

He stood and walked in front of the desk. “I am Jalorien, and I have kept Sanctuary running for 239 years. Everyone must pull their weight around here, and I have received some background on each of you.” He turned to Evie first. “Not until your race is fifteen are you expected to contribute, but I thought you might want to help with the chickens and geese in the hatchery?”

Evie looked at me, and I nodded. “That sounds like fun.” Blaze coughed, holding back a snicker. I was sure it was hard work raising fowl on a small island.

“Benito?” he asked next, and Benito identified himself. “You will report to Durgin to be trained as a sailor and fisherman.” I had told Benito last night he would be sailing on the Salty Widow’s next voyage but had broken the news to him about why it was necessary.

“Blaze, the master fletchers would welcome you?” Blaze grinned madly. Elven master fletchers were famed on the continent, and now he had a chance to learn from them.

“Thank you, I humbly accept.” He couldn’t contain his giddiness on his face.

The Castellion seemed pleased that we agreed to his assignments without objections. “Lesna, the halfling. I admit finding a role for you was a bit more difficult. The performers could use your skills as an illusionist. They perform a new play every week, but most also have other duties. Or perhaps you would like to apprentice under a trade?”

“I always wanted to be an actor,” Lesna said with a smile almost as wide as her face. I knew the halfling would get into trouble, especially since there had to be a large number of mages in Sanctuary who could detect her invisibility.

“Excellent!” The castellan put on a genuine smile. “That only leaves you. Your report suggests that you would be a suitable curator of books for our libraries or even a suitable apprentice alchemist.”

I knew it. I was going to be the first to decline his assignment. Having talked to Velkryn on the voyage, I had become fascinated with artificing. Not that I thought I would ever be able to craft artifacts myself, but understanding them and learning the runes interested me. The spell formation patterns in artifacts were written in metal, and my Earth Speak had allowed me to see them more easily than most in the past.

“Actually, I was hoping to study under the master artificers,” I said with a half-smile as the elf bristled. “I was told we could choose our duties?”

He showed decorum in tempering his response. “Artificing is a craft that takes years to learn and decades to master,” he explained like he would to an eager child. “I don’t think you would be able to scratch the surface in the short time you have here,” he said diplomatically. He was either referring to my lifespan or that I was not planning to stay long-term at Sanctuary.

“That will not be a problem for me,” I said vaguely.

“Fine.” I could tell he was biting back a retort. “I will let the master artificers deal with you then. If they expel you from their workshops, you will not be able to return.” I smiled, as I might not be able to master artificing, but I could create a reference library in the dreamscape. “You are free to explore Sanctuary. Tomorrow you will be given your initiate schedule.” He ushered us out and closed the door loudly, clearly directed at me.

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