Chapter 14: 14. Ifonsa and Falduin

Ifonsa prepared.

“What are you doing?” Falduin asked.  She could barely understand him.  His mouth was full of roast boar, and bread.

The kitchen was a treasure trove.  There was enough food to feed an army - a small one at least.  There was even a basement level with a cold room that was used to store food to stop it from perishing.  It was filled with an assortment of meats (cooked, fresh, and preserved), cheeses, fresh fruits, and vegetables.

Falduin was amazed by it.  When he stopped eating long enough to notice, that is.  He continued eating as he peered at the ceiling of the cold room.

“Its powered by the hearth,” he told her.  

Ifonsa wasn’t interested, and she told him so, but that didn’t stop him.  

“It’s right above,” he said poking at the ceiling, “Yes.  It’s freezing cold.” Then he explained, “The hotter the hearth, the colder it gets down here. That’s why the hearth is still smouldering.”  He took another bite as he thought for a moment, then added. “Whoever owns this-“

“Lord Alcaf,” Ifonsa said.

“Yes.  He’s rich.  This would cost a lot.”

“Then I doubt he’ll notice if we borrow some of his food.”

“Borrow?”

“He can have it back once we’re finished with it.”

Falduin grinned at that thought.  Then took another bite.

She still didn’t like him, but at least he had stopped whining.  Probably because his mouth was now too full.    But she couldn’t remain and watch him gorge himself.  And the inevitable purging that followed eating so much after short rations.

She couldn’t see what Lera saw in him.  They had clearly developed a close bond.  How far it extended Ifonsa still couldn’t say.  They did seem to spend most of their waking moments together, chatting quietly, sometimes giggling.  At least the two of them hadn’t slipped away for a bit of cuddling and squelching.   Maybe Lera was just being nice. 

“Going out,” she answered him, “Try not to eat everything.  Put some of it in the bags.”

She slipped out the door and was away before he could protest.

It was still quiet.  She could hear the sounds of the rivers.  Occasionally there was the honk of a swan, disturbed from its sleep. The stars were bright, although the sky was starting to fill with dark silhouettes, clouds blown in from the south-west.  

That could mean rain tomorrow.  She dreaded listening to Falduin as they tramped through the rain carrying enough food to feed them for the next few days. Ifonsa hoped that Heric managed to secure their mounts.  That would make it so much easier.

Her gaze found its way to the opposite side of the compound.  She smiled as the idea manifested in her mind.  

Plus it will make it harder for them to follow us, she thought.

 

Falduin deliberated.

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He perched over the glowing hearth, using his wizard sight to determine how the magic cooled the room below. As far as he could tell the core spell was deceptively simple. It just converted the heat from the fire.  Fire and ice  were on opposite sides of the element wheel and so were easily interchangeable. Like earth and water or love and hate.  What he had trouble understanding was how it was continuous.  There was no magical link to a power source.  That meant it was self-sustainable, but that was impossible according to what he had been told by his masters.

He returned to the large oak table, almost overflowing with food and heavy sacks, both of which they had dragged up from below.  He stuffed food in the sacks as he considered the possibilities.

Was it possible to construct a  reservoir of power? The masters said no, but wasn’t this how enchanted items worked?  What if there was a way of automatically replenishing the power as it was drained?  He remembered reading something about elf magic doing something similar, but that was years ago.  He would need to ask Ifonsa.  She had mentioned tricking elfs so she must have had some dealings with them.  Perhaps she knew or could introduce him to some elf wizards so he could ask them himself.

He didn’t really know much about elfkind, just stories he had been told by his mother. That was even more years ago.  He knew they were capricious, and mischievous.  That they stole for fun, even babies - replacing them with changelings and rag-dolls.  Not much different from The High Tower, as far as he was concerned. Some liked to play pranks for laughs, but others were impossibly sad, and wicked. A bit like the novices.

His attention was gradually drawn to the noises outside. He slowly realised that someone (or something) was at  the door to the kitchen.  It sounded unworldly, the huffing of wind, and low baying.  Indistinct, but ominous nonetheless.  Like a hound from the Underworld had been summoned.

He immediately thought of The Witch, and whether she had tracked down his location.  Would she be so bold as to call forth a demon to do her bidding?  Of course she would.

There was a thud.  A clop, really.  Followed by another.  As if the fiendish beast was approaching, learning how to walk as it went.

Falduin glanced towards the main door, all the way across the hall.  Could he reach it in time?  He snatched up all the bags he could easily carry and bolted.

He didn’t make it far.  Behind him he heard the kitchen door open, followed by the snort of the foul creature.

“What are you doing?”  It sounded strangely like Ifonsa.

He stopped and peered over his shoulder. It looked a lot like Ifonsa too.  But he knew that demons could take many forms.  Perhaps this one was just trying to lure him back by masquerading as his comrade.  

But this Ifonsa didn’t look happy.  Surely a demon would understand that more bees can be caught with honey than vinegar.

“Falduin,” the creature growled.  It sounded exactly as he had imagined a demon to sound, but there was no way any demon could look that annoyed. It was Ifonsa. In many ways he’d rather have faced the demon.

“Sorry,” he said.  “I thought you were...trouble.”

“I am,” Ifonsa warned him, “Grab as many bags as you can carry.  We’re leaving.”

He heard the clopping and huffing noise again.

“What is that?” he asked as he returned to the table.

“An old friend.”

“A friend?”

“Uh-huh,” Ifonsa said, grabbing some of the bags and turning to leave.  She stopped and turned back to him, “Can your magic be used to lower the drawbridge?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“Good.  It’s time to leave.”

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