001 - Caspian's Call to Adventure

The elf showed up just as Caspian had got the last of his spring hay in. Caspian led the ox team back from the barn to the last of the pile of hay bales in the field. Once these bales were stacked, he could turn to getting the wheat from the millers. As he lifted the hay bales onto the cart his sensitivity to magic tingled, telling him that someone was scanning his farm. A locus of energy started forming on a clear area of the field he worked in. Feeling the magic, Caspian continued working mildly irritated. Anyone from the School Of The Orders knew to land on the stone disk set out for such up by Caspian’s house, as was the convention for all magic users of which ever school.

Caspian stood an average height, and was built like a farmer. He still had all his fingers, which some considered unusual; he just accounted it to being attentive and careful. Caspian had been trained as a Mage, able to use magic from any of the eight schools. As part of his advanced schooling he had spent several years off planet. After finishing his schooling, he had wandered the length and breadth of the main continent of his home world. In this time he had met many people, learned many customs and bits of many languages, acquired a mild reputation, and some likes and dislikes. He had spent the last two years on a farm he had purchased in the Silvona lowlands, and begun looking around in earnest for some woman to strike his fancy.

The gate focused and the elf stepped through. Taking a moment to orient on Caspian, he strode across the hay field to the wagon as Caspian stacked the last hay bale. The bale in place, Caspian turned to the elf.

This male elf stood almost half again as tall as Caspian, had a slight blue tinge to his skin and a tall white mohawk. He dressed in the silks and linens of a city dweller.

“You are the one known as Caspian,” the elf stated.

“Yes,” replied Caspian.

“You are summoned by the leaders of the Nidear Clan. Go to their city Shalaia by the next solstice.”

Caspian knew about where that city was, and that he could not use any magic to get better than close to there, without first traveling there by foot, or sending some specific object to it that he could later find. That this elf could, as demonstrated in coming to Caspian’s farm, simply told of using a different kind of magic training, which they did not deign to share with men.

“To what purpose? I have much of my own business to do here, and owe nothing that I am aware of.” Caspian leaned a shoulder against the cart, folding his arms.

“They will explain as they will, in person. You know where that city is?” The elf was visibly insulted that Caspian had even asked for an explanation.

“It’s in the Shalalerin Mountains. Beyond that, not specifically, but I could find it.” Caspian did not move. Spring in Silvona meant fall in Shalalerin.

“I take my leave.” The elf turned, strolled across the field, opened a gate, and walked off Caspian’s land.

Caspian might have suggested that this elf take something that he could use as a focus for his own magical travel, but elves are jealous of both their privacy and time. The elf would have considered it an insult for Caspian to ask of it any kind of favor.

At the Spring Fair the next week, Caspian purchased a horse to get as far north as he could before winter had set in hard. The cost for this could be easily covered by his inherited wealth. As it was, Caspian had traded part of his hay harvest for it, and sold off the rest of his stores and livestock to good people, as he was anticipating not being around for a while.

After returning from the Fair, Caspian had contracted with his neighbor to the north to tend his farm, after Caspian had closed it up against the seasons.

“Why, Caspian?”

“Jamen, I’ve been summoned north by some bloody elves. I have no idea how long this will take, but I expect I will be some time. Watch my farm. I will try to be back within the year. If not, feel free to use what fields you can.”

The village of Barrowville rested on the east side of a large river valley in the western lowlands of the continent, a little south of this planet’s equator. The not-quite mountains along the east boarder of this river valley were the first range east from the seashore traveling across the continent. The Kingdom that claimed this area covered the large valley and stretched to the north and east. Another kingdom claimed the land to the west stretching to the sea shore.

This area was a flood plane with the roads and fields demarked by rock walls that regularly had silt wash through. Almost nothing exposed to the weather was hewn wood, as it rotted too quickly. Piled or cut stone and concrete were the primary exterior building materials, with glazing filling the windows. Storm shutters could cover the windows, but with the ambient humidity and lots of light the people usually left these open, with the windows themselves open to circulate the air.

Caspian rode the horse north. He wore spun cloth trousers and shirt, leather boots, a cargo vest with his usual expedition equipment in array and attached to its belt, He carried his staff in hand, his coat and cloak tied to the back of the saddle. His food bag and water skin were also attached to the saddle. His familiar Cyrril fluttered about.

Like many archetypical wizard staves, if Caspian was moving, so was it. It stood a cubit taller than Caspian, and was made of seven rods of assorted woods magically twisted together. The carved dragon on the head of it was something to be careful of. He occasionally thumped himself with either end, but the wings on the carved end hurt worse than the blunt foot. A secondary feature that Caspian occasionally used was a socket within the carved dragon that matched to the handle of the bush-knife on his belt. This made the staff a kind of spear or pole arm. The metal blade could occasionally interfere with spells, so most of the time they were separate.

He soon left the extents of the local farms and the road transitioned from that of one maintained by daily village use to a highway maintained by the semi-regular passage of trader caravans, and military patrols.

After six weeks of travel, ending near the height of local winter, Caspian entered the elves city, Shalaia. Despite the depth of snow here, they kept the roads clean, if wet. The cobbles shed the water quickly enough. The Shalalerin Mountains were too hard for a horse from the lowlands, so he had sold it off and purchased some local clothes, and snow gear. Now three days prior to the solstice he had arrived, having traversed a significant portion of the main continent of the planet in latitude from his home just south of the equator to this range of mountains north of the northern tropic line.

As he presented himself to the city concierge he was given instructions on where a room was reserved for him, and where to present himself for further preparations. Caspian went to the appointed inn, and rung the bell on the counter, which sat at his shoulder height. A bluish hewed elf of indeterminate age appeared, and shortly Caspian had a small room. Cyrril stirred and got off Caspian’s shoulders as Caspian removed his outer cloak and set it over the back of the chair. Caspian undressed and went to bed, feeling vaguely like a child, for the size of everything in this city.

The scale of the city and its inhabitants was half again as tall as the average height of the people Caspian was want to be among, while not being correspondingly larger around. Also these elves had varying degrees of blue to their skin tone, in the same way men had varying degrees of browns. Also these elves had white mohawks, where men had dark straight hair. There was the usual personal variation, but it was different none the less.

A messenger showed up just after breakfast. She stood head and shoulders taller than Caspian being slightly shorter than his staff, this marked her as a juvenile, and he had to briefly check himself from any prurient thoughts and look up at her rather than straight ahead. At least it was winter and the locals dressed accordingly. He figured she was still a youth among the elves. She took Caspian to a tailor, where he was outfitted with a ‘presentable’ outfit. Caspian found the costume ridiculous. But he found most formal costumes to be ridiculous. In this case they gave him a long robe that split for his legs and hung to his ankles, with short pantaloons underneath. Over this was a second robe that hung to his knees. The next morning Caspian dressed in the costume after bathing himself, and Cyrril. He wiped the road grime from his staff, left the rest of his things aside, and was ready to go when his escort arrived.

The meeting did not last long, with a terse explanation that satisfied Caspian. The negotiations lasted a bit longer.