Ways of Power 1: Power Rises (4 page)

He would never forget the time that two boys, both illusionists, had teased and ridiculed him, conjuring huge, grotesque images of what they thought of as demons, sending them to chase him around in the street. Rancoth had been about eleven, and they were both older, around thirteen.

At the time Rancoth was still practicing summoning a small
relatively harmless rodent-like demon
. Karakas
would not allow him to summon anything that was more powerful or sentient until he could
fully control the mindless little demon
. He knew full well the power of the demons he could summon, and he also knew his own limitations at controlling them.

Rancoth would not go against Karakas' wishes. Instead he had run, crying, back to the tower, straight into Jurile's arms. She dealt with the cruel children, and took him straight to Grecrum. Grecrum sat him down, and explained the importance of having patience, understanding, and temperance with those who would seek to hurt him for the fear they felt of him.

In response to the whispers of the crowd, Rancoth smiled, waved and gave them a hearty, "Good morning! I hope your day is a glorious one. May you, and yours be blessed." This of course resulted in a new flurry of conversation. Rancoth smiled, and went down the great marble steps to the city streets below.

Even though the tower was already starting to gather a crowd, the majority of the city was still just waking up. Rancoth wandered south along T-Fifty, the main causeway and center-most tower road, admiring the different houses and shops. All were built from some form of stone and wood, most with a hint of white coloring to them.

The main streets were cobblestone, and provided easy access to those with horse-drawn carts or carriages. There were few trees in the city, except in the Healers’ Quarter, but that was not the direction Rancoth was going. His feet were taking him to the Physicalist quarter. Out of tired habit, and without thinking, Rancoth would
inevitably end up at Dorbin's
smithy.

7

After a few blocks Rancoth turned left down P-Four. Now that he was facing east, he had to put his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, which had crested the horizon. The glare made it difficult to see where he was going, but his feet knew where to take him. After passing three shops, he came to a halt at a moderately sized white stone building.

There was thick smoke rising from the chimney, and the dark wooden door was in need of repair. Above the door was a wooden sign, adorned with an intricately carved interwove
n
D
S
flanked on either side by stylized Dwalish hammers. Th
e
D
S
stood for Dorbin's Smithy, and the hammers noted the Dwalish style of the craftsman within.

Rancoth opened the door, which groaned a loadly on its rusted hinges, accompanied by the soft tinkling of bells to announce to the proprietor the entrance of a customer. 

"I'll be wit ya in a moment," came the gruff, and heavily accented greeting from the next room. Rancoth took the time to look around. Adorning the walls were various sets of armor, shields and weapons, all of various sizes and types, and all superb workmanship. Everyone knew that Dorbin was the finest smithy in all of Light Magi territory; his shields the most impenetrable, his blades never dulled, and his armor was always sturdy yet surprisingly light-weight, providing the wearer more freedom of movement.

"Oh, it’s you is it? Hmm finally decided to git yourr lazzy butt out o' bed did yeh?" Rancoth turned from the beautiful silver shield he had been admiring to look at his long-time friend and tutor.

Dorbin was a small, thickset man, standing around four feet tall, an average height for his race. He had a large bulbous nose and high round cheeks. The top of his head was bald, but there was a perimeter of snowy white hair that wrapped around the base of his skull, came up over his ears, and wrapped itself down his sideburns and up over his lip.

The sideburns were long and hung down to his chest; he kept his chin shaved, and braided the two long sections of sideburns a few inches under his bare chin. His race's eyes didn't glow, and the only color they had was in a small circle around the pupils; the rest of their eyes were white. Dorbin's were dark brown, and they showed the confidence of his many years of experience.

Rancoth smiled and said, "Good morning, Dorbin my friend. I thought I was doing pretty well, considering that the sun is just now coming over the horizon and most of the city is still wandering through their dreams."

A hint of a smile touched Dorbin's face before he replied, "That's no excuse! Wherre have ya been forr the last thrree days anyway?"

Rancoth couldn't help but grin at the small older man. "First of all, the last I checked, I'm no longer taking lessons, and as such am not required to be here every day."

Dorbin pulled a face and said, "Well. If you don't want to be herre then git out!"

Rancoth grinned again. "I didn't say that. And second, if you really want to know where I've been, then don't jump to conclusions and let me tell you."

Dorbin crossed his arms and glared at him but didn't say anything else.

"That's better. Now if you must know, I met a girl at the pub a few days ago, and she and I have been spending some time together."

At that the little Dwalish man's eyes lit up, and a smile cracked his face. "Ohh now that's differrent! Why didn't you say so? What she look like? Does she have a nice butt? You know how I likes me a nice rrround bottom!"

Rancoth immediately started to laugh. "You only like their bottoms because it's the only thing at eye level!"

Dorbin grunted. "Don't starrt with the shorrt jokes, and answerr the damn question!"

Rancoth chuckled again and then shook his head. "It's none of your business. Besides, I'm not seeing her again anyway. Now what can I do to help you out today?"

Dorbin threw his hands in the air, and shook his head. "Was prrobably flat anyway. Why don't you sweep the floorrs, and then you can help me in the back."

Rancoth nodded and headed for the broom closet, while Dorbin turned and went back to his workroom. After retrieving a broom Rancoth opened all of the shop doors and windows to let the cool morning breeze in, and to help release some of the ensuing dust cloud. As he swept, Rancoth listened to the morning singsong of the birds as they flew by, and allowed his mind to wander.

He had just started thinking about the girl he mentioned to Dorbin when his reverie was rudely interrupted by a crash and a yell from Dorbin's workroom. Rancoth ran to see what the commotion was about, and barely ducked as a shaping hammer flew through the air where his face had been just a moment before.

"Ga'Damn Firre!" The little man was red faced and fuming.

"Something wrong?" Rancoth asked, standing up and straightening his robe.

"Eh, I'm trrying a new smelting prrocess, but I can't get the damn firre hot enough."
Dorbin turned and walked back towards the bellows, grunting as he began pumping them again. 

"Hold on a minute. For once I think I might be useful." Rancoth very rarely got to use his powers outside of training with Karakas so when the opportunities presented themselves he took advantage of them.

Dorbin turned and saw the glint in Rancoth's glowing green eyes. "Well…laddy, if ya think it's safe…"

Rancoth smiled. "It'll be fine, my friend, just um…keep quiet, okay?"

Dorbin nodded, with a slight look of trepidation on his face, and moved back from his bellows to stand out of the way.

Rancoth knew Dorbin feared his power…everyone did. He hoped that Dorbin also knew that he wouldn't allow any harm to come to him. He had come a long way since that night eleven years ago, and could readily control his demons now…for the most part anyway.

"Gillbrick, come." The demon’s name and the simple command were the only words Rancoth used to summon any of his minions. Simple, direct, with no room for misunderstanding. He learned long ago that it was the best approach to take with the inherently deceitful, evil creatures he had at his command.

A thick inky black smoke and an almost overwhelming stench of sulfur heralded the creature's entrance. Gillbrick was a gremlin-class demon; it was small, no bigger than a foot tall, with long thin arms and legs sticking out from a rotund little belly. It's naked, hairless skin was a dark cobalt blue, and like most demons it had no discernible sex.

It had a small round head with a flat face and snout. Two small tusks jutted out a few inches from its lower jaw. Its eyes were red, with no hint of pupil, and there were two small holes in the side of its head to serve for ears.

Gillbrick was the first sentient demon Rancoth had ever summoned, and like all of his minions it hated him. Once summoned by a warlock a demon is irreversibly linked to that warlock; it must serve its master, though not always in a cooperative manner.

Gillbrick had appeared on top of a workbench directly in front of Rancoth. It spoke with a high-pitched scratchy voice, and had a look of irritation on its face.
"Aiech drem koll ra ti ma,"
were the words that Dorbin would hear, but Rancoth heard "What the hell do you want?"

Rancoth replied in the common tongue, partially for Dorbin's benefit, but mostly because it allowed him to remain focused, and he knew that the demon could understand him no matter what language he spoke. "You and I are going to help my friend Dorbin with his forge."

The look of loathing that shot across Gillbrick's face was almost an assault itself. "We're going to put your fire to good use," Rancoth said.

"Good use, my ass! That fat little man can eat shit and die for all I care!" Gillbrick spat back.

"What you care for is inconsequential. We are going to help him."

Gillbrick continued to glare without moving. "You're a worthless master. Out of all the warlocks I could have been tied to, I get a goody-two-shoes pussy. My hell fire should be used to burn cities to the ground, and to roast the flesh of your enemies. Pathetic!"

Dorbin, who could only understand Rancoth's side of the conversation, was getting impatient with his own curiosity. "What's it sayin?" he finally asked, with a mixed look of wonder and fear on his face. His tutelage of the boy had been in the traditional areas of study: math, language, science; things of that nature. He had never seen Rancoth use his power before, nor met one of his minions.

Gillbrick instantly turned to look at Dorbin, with murder on its mind.

"STOP!" Rancoth shouted.

Gillbrick had already snapped its long spindly fingers and held a ball of blue and white flame in its hand, but at its master's command, it didn't make another move.

"You will throw that ball of flame into the mouth of the forge only, and then you will instantly return to your realm." Gillbrick looked back over its shoulder at Rancoth to offer him one final vile look, before doing as it was commanded. It tossed the ball of hell fire into the forge, sending sparks dancing across the room, and then vanished in a puff of black smoke.

Rancoth spent the rest of the day helping Dorbin with his new smelting technique. Between that, and occasionally going up front to help when a customer entered the shop, and going out to retrieve something to eat for the mid-day meal, it turned out to be a very good day. Finally, as evening approached, Dorbin turned to the young man for whom he actually cared a great deal and asked, "So laddy arre you gonna tell me why you'rre still herre?"

With a look of confusion, Rancoth replied, "What do you mean? I thought I was helping you."

"Yes, you arre, but you norrmally go home long beforre this time o' day. So theirr must be something wrrong."

Rancoth sighed, and looked at his feet. He hadn't realized until Dorbin broke the silence that they had finished working some time ago, and had been sitting in silence ever since.

"It's nothing, I'll just go." Rancoth stood to leave, but Dorbin blocked his path.

"Eh' don't go feeding me any shite, what's the matterr?" Dorbin had a look of fierce determination and concern on his face; he was not going to let the young man go until he spilled his guts.

"All right, all right--it's my father. He’s supposed to be meeting Grecrum and me for dinner tonight. I was hoping if we got caught up working for long enough I might miss it. I have no desire to see him."

Dorbin's features softened, a look of understanding dawning across his face. "Ah, I see…"

"So…what else can I do to help you?" Rancoth asked with more than a hint of desperation in his voice.

"I'm sorrry lad, but I think you should go and see yourr fatherr."

Rancoth knew that Dorbin hated not being able to rescue him, but he knew deep down that he needed this. It was time for him to face at least some of the ghosts of his past.

"But you'rre morre than welcome to come back tomorrrow." With that Dorbin winked and left him to his thoughts.

Rancoth watched as Dorbin went from the dingy workroom back to his sleeping area with a feeling of affection for the little man. Next to Grecrum, Dorbin was his favorite person in the whole world. He sighed and began the short, but impossibly long, trek back to the tower.