18. Fenric #3
“Oooh, spicy kitty.”
Giving up, he shifted back to human form and just sat on the road for a long moment, glaring at the fog.
“Stabbin’ hour,” Rain sing-songed.
“Stabbing hour?” Maxie repeated with confusion.
“Y’know, office hours, happy hour, stabbin’ hour,” Rain explained.
Malfas tacked on, “It’s a healthy work-life balance. Takes the edge off.”
“I would love for it to be stabbin’ hour, but I can’t find the creator of this damned fog to stab.” Fenric continued to glower. “Much as I wish otherwise, let’s retreat for now. We’re not going to make it through like this.”
“Finally,” Hapi groaned, leading the way back to the rented wagon. “I also do not suggest lingering here.”
“No, it’s not a good idea,” Malfas said, and for once the warlock was gazing at something like he had brain cells actually working.
“The spell behind this fog is now on alert and might move toward our camp during the night if we linger near it. Let’s go farther away, out of sight of the fog, and rest there. ”
It would mean traveling back down the road for a good hour, but Fenric was fine with that. He didn’t want to risk that fog getting in closer, and honestly, with his level of frustration, he didn’t want it anywhere within his sight, either. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if that was the case.
They loaded back up in the wagon and Hapi got the skele-elks going, the skelebabies clattering along on the road beside them, acting as a guard.
Malfas sat in the front with Hapi, but he was twisted sideways so he could look at the fog.
“This is my first time encountering finfolk magic. It is far more insidious than I expected. It does make me wonder how Lord Mire managed to escape and send out word that he needed assistance. Rather surprising of him to have returned to his village as well, considering the negative gossip I’ve heard about the man. Maybe the gossip wasn’t true.”
“It’s likely the finfolk hadn’t solidified their hold on the village and gotten all their magicks in place when he returned,” Rain said, scratching his beard. “We’re encountering the magic at full force now because they’ve had time to fully build it.”
Fenric grunted. “But why go back? I’ve heard Mire is a coward and a bastard too. Not the type to risk life and limb for a bunch of poor peasants.”
Rain flashed him a devilish grin and bumped him with his shoulder. “Who says he went back for his people? Only one reason a craven man risks his neck.”
“Treasure,” Fenric and Rain said at the same time.
“While that’s a good incentive to get through the fog wall and kill the finfolk, it doesn’t give us an answer as to how to break it. None of our magic is suitable for such a task,” Hapi pointed out as he also glanced back at them.
That was sadly the case. Malfas and Hapi were their offensive hitters, magically speaking, but they didn’t possess the type of magic they currently needed.
They needed someone who had an insidious magic of their own.
Maxie poked his knee, and Fenric looked over to see Maxie’s eyebrows raised in a hopeful expression. “Fen, you seem to have an idea?”
“I might,” he allowed. “I think we need to hire someone.”
Malfas perked up. “You know a guy?”
“Everyone knows a guy,” Rain muttered with a roll of his eyes.
“What guy?” Maxie’s eyes darted from one face to another. “There’s a guy?”
“There will be if we can catch up with him.” Knowing they had no clue who he meant, Fenric explained, “I know a bard.”
Malfas sat up a little more, interest spreading over his face. “How do you know a bard?”
“He may have gotten locked up in jail with me once”—not to mention sexed him up in an alley—“and we got to chatting.”
Without prompting, Malfas explained to Maxie, “Bards are excellent for this kind of nonsense because their magic is both subtle and very good at disrupting other magic. There’s a great deal of magical theory behind why, and I’ll explain if you’re truly interested, but in essence, they are great at clearing out spells meant to confuse people.
They can safely work from a distance, too, so they can act as support if we go into a fight later. ”
“They also have healing spells and cantrips,” Hapi threw in, “which differ from a necromancer’s healing.”
“This person sounds like the best answer to our dilemma.” Maxie turned to Fenric and asked, “Where is this man?”
“Last I saw him, he was in Bjornkill.”
“Do you think he’s still there?”
“I hope so. I know he was looking for information, but I’m not sure if he found it.”
“No harm in returning to Bjornkill,” Belstrom said. “Even if we fail to locate your friend, we can always seek out another bard to hire. Or another soul whose magic aligns with our endeavors.”
True enough. “Then let’s make camp for the night, then travel back to the port town in the morning. I think hiring a bard is likely our best bet. I don’t know how else to get through the fog.”
Belstrom nodded. “Truly, we would drive ourselves mad before successfully traversing it.”
Fenric was done getting tossed around by magic fog.