Michael Chatfield
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Four Horsemen: Chapter 9 Part 2 of 2
🕑 Added 2023-10-11 11:00:04 +0000 UTCMya’s smile faded. Just what the hell have you found yourself in now Mya?
She took in a breath, the whole sensation felt weird, smile firmly in place she headed down the stairs into the tavern. People took up tables, leaning over their drinks and talking in low voices to their drink-mates.
“Helena, another one!” A man put down his tankard at the bar.
Mya recognized the voice.
“Ah Clemens!”
He turned his head.
“Mya, good work today, Helena put her beer on me.”
“Its on the house, ain’t taking none of your coin,” Helena said, grabbing two fresh clay tankards, filling them up. “Don’t you even start trying to wheedle them coins into my purse.”
Clemens let out a sigh as Mya grinned at Helena and sat on the stool next to him.
“Your friends not joining us?” Helena asked.
“Been a long day, they’re getting some rest,” Mya smiled.
Clemens grunted. “Never thought there be a day Sorelli would be under siege.”
“Been under siege ever since we found the undercroft,” Helena said.
Clemens cut her a look as the door banged open.
Three guards looked around, one strode in for Clemens the last closing the door.
“What’s up?” Clemens sat up.
“People gone missing. Our people, wondering if you knew where they went to?”
“I’ll be getting that beer later Helena,” Clemens stood, his waterproof shifted, a sword and dagger underneath.
“Good health to you lads, come back when you’re done. Got warmth and food.”
The guards nodded in thanks, Clemens led the way, the others following.
Helena put a mug infront of Mya.
“Another round Helena!” Another patron asked.
“Be right there.”
Mya sent her gaze into her storage device in her belt as she took a drink from the ale. Not great, not bad.
It was set up as a warehouse. Chests filled with coinnages in rows. Fishing gear, food and water, spices, tools, pieces of art, things easy to be sold and bartered.
Two sections were filled with weapons, swords of different kind, pistols, rifles, as well as ammunition and powder.
There were dozens of cannons within the rows, with their accompanying ammunitions and powders.
Maps, charts and navigation equipment lay in ordered rows alongside magical and treated woods in racks.
Mya rushed past it all as she reached a corner of the storage device in her mind and sent her mana through the device in a set pattern.
A door appeared between the racks, she went through it, into a crypt.
Books covered the wall the door was a part of, enchanted cookbook covers ready to be slipped over and hide their contents. Potions, ingredients, gems, inks, chalks. Filled several of the shelves within the crypt.
The majority was taken up by identical off-white, grey and black marbled chests. They peaked in the middle with towers on each corner lay in rows and racks throughout the crypt. Names were scrawled over their sides, filling nearly every centimeter.
Mya’s mind touched upon the nearest chest as she closed her eyes.
Safe. They were safe from the dark gods. Her eyes darted across the racks, several were empty and names didn’t’ fill every soul chest. Hope you’re raising hell. I’ll be seeing you soon.
Waves sloshed in a glass bottle on its own pedestal. Mya studied the bottle, pitted and rough from its journey through the seas. She tapped it, inscriptions scrawled across and inside the bottle, the waves riding up the sides of the bottle and falling back down.
Looks like you’re still out there Mesurial.
She called a part of her mana and threaded it into the mouth of the bottle. It floated through and disappeared slowly.
A few notes plucked from a guitar drew Mya’s attention out of her storage device. An older man taking a draw from his beer, coughing as he tuned his guitar, taking another drink before he strummed on the guitar, picking up his pace and drawing people up straight as they bounced with the beat, talking louder to hear one another.
The drink flowed and Mya took in the bar, people loosening up with a few drinks in them.
“So, what was that all about with the guards?” Mya asked.
Helena’s gaze weighed her, leaning on the bar with one hand, tracing the lines etched into it.
“Guess its not exactly a secret.” She shrugged. “Sorelli used to be a little mining town three years back. Came out here seeking a new life, a new fortune. Was hard work, but we took our time and we played it safe.” She took in a breath and let it out in one explosive shot. “Then we found the undercroft. Place covered in runes and all kinds of magical ornaments. Did what any smart person would do, sought out a priest. Someone that knows what to do with these things.”
Helena’s eyes pinched together, recounting her memories. “They came alright. Told us to not step foot in it. A week later the damn church came. They said that the place was holy, built a massive great cathedral over the mine.” Helena snorted. “Might have not made the best foundations from what I’ve heard.”
Mya grinned. “Ass end of it just dropped right down into the ground.”
Helena let out a laugh. “Serves ‘em right. They came in here, took over the town, took our mining rights and dictated what we could and couldn’t do. They created their town here, brought in farmers and pushed us off to the side.”
“Bit of a dick move.”
“Bit of a dick move,” Helena grinned with agreement. "The priests and their vassals became the new authority figures, shaping the destiny of Sorelli."
Helena tilted her chin at the door. “Clemens was the headman’s son. His dad died not a year after Jorai’s bunch set up shop here. Ever since he’s been looking out for us. Checking in on everyone. He’s gotten everyone jobs but he’s always stuck on labor and doing the hard work. Tough lad.”
“You ever learn what they were doing in the undercroft?”
“Oh there’s theories and ideas, but nothing more than that. Came in through some kind of storage room, maze of corridors and rooms throughout the place. Mining became so restricted because we kept on running into more tunnels and such. Couldn’t get deep enough into the mountain for the metals. Every time we hit another corridor had to restart all over again, new claim, new permit, new mine.” Helena leaned forward.
“Some sanctified and some not.”
Mya chuckled. “Ah, what they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” Mya winked back.
She chatted with Helena while she cleaned and between serving drinks. Another woman helped out, serving those at the different tables and keeping the bard supplied.
As the night went on Helena introduced her to the other locals, full of interesting bits of gossip.
The music ebbed as the night drew to a close and Mya stood, actually feeling a buzz for the first time in nearly twenty years.
Being undead has some benefits, but this is magical. She waved Helena good night and headed up the stairs to her room excited to sleep. First I need to figure out what those priests are doing with necromantic ingredients.
