The Tears of Kas̆dael

“Holy hell that hurts!” Jasper clutched his chest tightly, the phantom pains from Kas̆dael’s hand still tingling through his torso. “I’m never going to get used to that,” he muttered to himself. Still, he knew it had been worth it. He could feel the difference within him, the new strength coiled in his tendons and the enhanced pool of essence just waiting for him to summon it. Yes, it was worth it.

When the worst of the pain had dissipated, he lumbered to his feet. After the long night spent fighting the fires, he was in desperate need of a shower. His usually red skin was almost black from the layers of grime and soot that covered him, but unfortunately, tents were not equipped with such luxuries. He headed to the nearby creek instead where the water ran fast enough that, despite the cold temperatures, it remained free of ice. A chilling bath later, he returned to the tent and changed his clothes. Then he set off to find Ihra and Tsia.

The two girls were right where he’d left them and, judging from the matching pair of light snores that resonated through the tent, were still deep in slumber. He considered waking them briefly, but decided against it. Although he knew Ihra might be annoyed if he left them behind, there was really no need for all three of them to deliver the mage to Gūla - and, frankly, he wasn’t sure if the two girls, neither of whom were in the Djinn army, would even be allowed to enter the command center. Hell, he wasn’t even convinced he was welcome there - it wasn’t like he’d been invited.

Despite being tied upright to a tent pole, the mage’s head was also slumped in slumber, sheer exhaustion winning against the uncomfortableness of the situation. Jasper woke him up with a light shake of the shoulders, and the man’s head snapped up. “Wh-what?” The temporary confusion of the waking mind dissipated as his eyes focused on Jasper. “You.”

“Yes, me,” Jasper agreed amiably. “Now if I take you to give testimony before the commanders, are you going to try to fight me?” His fingers moved as he asked the question, casting his truth spell, and the mage noticed.

“What’s your level?” The mage asked bluntly, not immediately responding.

“Kind of personal information, don’t you think?” He replied with a smirk. “But just a bit shy of 150,” he answered. It was technically the truth - though thanks to his second class, he was definitely underselling his abilities.

“You’re having me on.” The mercenary’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You don’t even have a proper set of horns.”

Jasper grabbed the man’s arm and squeezed tightly, with all of his recently boosted strength.

“Shamsha’s Rays, enough,” the mage snapped after only a moment. “You’ve proved your point.” The man glared up at him as Jasper stepped back. “Either you’re a complete idiot who dumped all his points in strength or you really are that many levels above of me. So, fine, I won’t try to escape.”

The spell told Jasper the mage was telling the truth, and he began to untie the man’s knots.

“You aren’t going to kill me, are you?” The mage asked abruptly.

“If you’d known what you’re doing, then, yeah, I wouldn’t think twice about it,” he admitted with a shrug of his shoulders. “But…it was clear from our little interrogation that they played you for a fool, so no, I won’t kill you. Can’t speak for what the others might do, though.”

“But you’ll speak up for me?”

“And why would I do that?” Jasper asked with raised eyebrows. “You may not have known they’d changed the accelerant, but you were still committing treason.”

“Treason?!” The mage’s face paled. “It was just a bit of protest, an inconvenience to the army, nothing more,” he sputtered.

Jasper shrugged again. “It’s not me you need to convince. But I will tell them you didn’t know about the accelerant, for what good that does.”

The man’s eyes darted to the wide-open flap of the tent and his muscles tensed. For a second, Jasper thought he was going to make a break for it, but then his shoulders sagged. “I hope it’s enough,” he said dully.

Keeping his hands bound, Jasper led him outside the tent where he mounted Dapplegrim. Tethering the rope to the horse’s saddle, he set off for the commanders’ camp. Dapplegrim, who hadn’t had the chance to stretch her legs since the night before, took off at nearly a canter, forcing the mage to run along beside them.

“Do…you…really…have…to…go…so…fast,” the mage complained as he struggled to keep up on the pitted road.

Truthfully, Jasper found the absurd sight rather amusing, but there was no need to add insult to injury. Suppressing a chuckle, he soothed Dapplegrim into a slower pace. “That better?”

The Djinn just nodded, breathing too hard to speak.

It took them nearly half an hour to reach the center of the camp. The king’s forces had set up their base in a large villa outside the city walls. The home of a prominent farmer in the area, the villa was surrounded by a few hundred acres of carefully tended orchards, now out of season. The soldiers had been surprisingly respectful of the land, and though the farmer and his family had been forced out of their rooms until the troops departed, the trees had been left undamaged.

He was stopped at the entrance to the villa by a small cadre of guards who manned a small log gate that barred the road. Jasper was about to explain who he was, when one of the guards greeted him preemptively, with a friendly wave of his hand. “What can I do for you, Commander Yas̆peh?”

“Uh,” Jasper stared at the Djinn in confusion. Nothing about him seemed familiar, but he had to admit, he didn’t always pay as close of attention as he could. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“You are Commander Yas̆peh of the 27th S̆addanite Cohort, are you not?”

“I am,” he confirmed, “but how do you know that?”

The guard pointed at a sheet of paper pinned to the log barricade. “We have a list of all the commanders in the camp and their basic appearance. There’s only five commanders from the Royal House, and you’re the only one that’s hor-” he caught himself, “er, that matched the description, so it seemed a safe guess. Do you have an appointment?”

“I see,” Jasper replied noncommittally, not commenting on the man’s inadvertent insult. “Is Captain Gūla here?” He tugged on the rope binding the mage and pulled him forward. “My party was fortunate enough to capture one of the saboteurs last night. I don’t have an appointment, but I figured Command would be interested in interrogating them.”

The Djinn whistled. “You got that right, Commander. I can’t let you pass without official permission, but I’m sure it won’t take long to get.” He nodded at one of the men standing beside him, a guard whose lack of a beard and stubby horns suggested he was still quite young, and the man took off, racing toward the distant villa.

The guard hadn’t lied. He’d been waiting less than five minutes before the young man was headed back in their direction. “General Turzu said to send him on in.”

Placing their shoulders against the walls, the guards shoved the gates of the barricade open, and ushered Jasper in. Even then, they still didn’t let him wander the encampment freely; the young man trailed along beside him until he reached the entrance of the villa. Another set of guards waited there, but they were already expecting him. Entrusting Dapplegrim into their care, Jasper untied the mage from the saddle, and led him inside.

From the outside, the villa bore a certain rustic charm. Constructed almost entirely of long planks of warodim wood, whose seams were bound together by thick white plaster, the white and lavender scheme of the building would have been charming even if a sumptuous garden and endless orchards hadn't also surrounded it.

Yet, its beauty came more the simplicity of its design and the nature around it than any architectural flourishes. Thus, Jasper was awestruck when he stepped inside the villa’s forum. An intricate mosaic spread from one side of the room to the other, thousands of pieces of colored glass that reflected the lights of the candelabras like the stars of heaven. The walls were no less fancifully decorated, for every inch was covered in colorful frescos. Jasper wasn’t quite sure what they were depicting, but it was obvious from the way the panels seemed to flow one into another that they told a story.

“Pretty impressive, isn’t it,” one of the guards chuckled.

“This is way nicer than my own manor,” he admitted. “I thought this was just a merchant’s house. How did they afford all this?”

“It’s easy when you can make it yourself.” The answer came not from the guard but Gūla, who stepped out into the hall. “One of the merchant’s daughters is the artist. As you can see she’s quite talented.”

“No kidding,” Jasper snorted. “This would be a major tourist attraction back home.”

Her eyes narrowed at his mention of Earth, and Jasper hurried to cover his blunder. “But that’s not why I’m here.” He pushed the mage forward. “I think this man may have some of the answers you’re looking for.”

“Let me guess, you work for the ‘lords of wēdīnīnu, right?”

“Or maybe you already have them,” Jasper quickly quipped. “Have you been holding out on me again?”

“No, nothing like that,” Gūla said, shaking her head. She held the door open for them. “You better come on in.”

The chamber off the hall was smaller than he’d expected, though judging from the massive round table that dominated the middle of the room, he quickly guessed it to be the former dining hall. The center of the table was filled with one of the largest maps he’d seen, while piles of documents rose around its edges like a mountain range.

A dozen Djinn stood around the table, while another small group was clustered toward the back of the room, where Jasper spied two men bound to chairs. Their bodies were caked in blood and grime and their hands sported a number of fresh bloody stumps that told Jasper everything he needed to know about how the interrogators had gotten their information.

“Looks like you’ve got prisoners of your own.” But did you have to torture them? He wanted to ask the question but bit his tongue. Other than Gūla, he recognized no one in the room, and he doubted they’d be receptive to a newcomer questioning their methods.

“The 7th wasn’t able to stop them from setting the fires, but a few perceptive guards noticed these guys sneaking away. They’ve been able to provide us with a bit of information, though Kas̆ūd,” she nodded at one of the men standing above the bloodied prisoners, “doesn’t have as sensitive a truth-spelling as you do, so it’s possible we’ve been fed a bunch of half-truths. What did yours tell you?”

She took notes as Jasper quickly filled in her on what the mage had said, mostly confirming what they already knew, but stopped dead when he mentioned the canister they’d captured. “Wait, you have one of them? The prisoners mentioned using an accelerant, but there was nothing left-” she trailed as Jasper pulled the red glass canister out of his bag of holding. “General Turzu!”