Beginnings
Today was a special day; an exciting day. Today was going to be the day that Mr. Leoric Ravenwind would open his very own business! The Chisel & Quill he called it and it would be a runesmithing business. Runes are interesting things, that work very much like a language. They help humans control their magic. Without them their magic would be ethereal and nebulous; shapeless and chaotic. But with runes, the energy could be bent and shaped to ones desires. On their own however, they not do much. Theoretically anyone with the know-how could inscribe runes. But it took a person that knnew how to direct their magic into a current, to flow into the rune for it to do its ‘magic.’ Runes were often categorised into different strengths. Mr. Leoric Ravenwind was of a more magical disposition, as he was born with a greater aptitude towards it. He could cast what was called a Triune; one that incorporated three single runes into one, it was given that name by those that practiced magic because it sounded rather like a combination of the words tri (meaning ‘three’) and rune. Rather a fitting name they thought. By combining runes their power coalesces, sometimes this meant they would create a new effect all-together, other times this meant they simply became more effective at what they did. But this always increased the amount of magic required to cast or sustain it. Many folks that were able to use magic could only ever cast the simplest of runes: Priunes, which were single runes. These were usually your circus magicians making small objects disappear and reappear, or the local fortune teller telling you your harvest will be bountiful. Others a little more skilled in magic were able to cast more advanced runes: Diunes, which were double runes. Used most often by alchemists in many a ritual and court-wizards in their daily duties to the noble house they served.
Only those that were born into magic were able to cast Triunes. Yes, one did not have to be born with magical abilities to be able to use them. Many months of practice and study could make even the simplest of folk able to cast at the very least Priunes. But many did not have access to either the knowledge or time to learn. And as such, magic was reserved for only those of more opulent dispositions.
Runesmithing referred to the art of inscribing said runes. As any runes beyond Priunes required a steady hand a keen eye, for even the smallest of mistakes could greatly alter their effect or even make them misfire and cause a terrible accident.
Next to the Pri-s, Di-s and Tri-s there is one more class of runes. Logically it would only follow that one could add yet another rune to the pile, and this would be true: Tetrunes. These runes were the most anyone had ever been able to cast and live to tell the tale. Some had tried to cast Pentarunes (which are ‘five’ runes), naught but ash and dust was left after their attempt.
The name of his shop, Leoric thought, was an apt description of the craft, as you could inscribe runes on any object. However, the sturdiness and the origins of the material mattered greatly, for runes not only put great demand on their caster, but also the object they were inscribed on. Hard rocks, strong woods and a special parchment made of the hardest plant-fibres were used most often.
Leoric had decided to open his new business on the same day as his birthday. He liked to think of it as a sort of birthday gift to himself. He was going to turn fifty-three, even though he did not look it; thirty-three would have been nearer the mark. As was normal for those born with magic, they often lived rather long and—according to some folk—’unnatural’ lives.
Many in Pipebarrow were excited about the opening of the new shop, for they had not had a local runesmith in many a year. And having a runesmith in your town was generally seen as a good thing, it tended to increase the town’s prosperity, as folk were willing to travel quite far to enlist the services of a runesmith who was good at their craft. And because most people could control only a little magic, but did not know how to craft runes they needed the service of runesmiths to do that for them.
The town was located in the Westwoods and owed the latter part of its name to the large hill it was built on. The hill was mostly flat and stood quite a bit higher than the surrounding land, protecting it from the occasional flooding of the Stem; the nearby river. This made it the perfect place for a settlement.
To the East of the Westwoods lay the Eastfields, a large area mostly covered by grassy fields and lonely trees, unlike the Westwoods, which was covered with all sorts of forests, swamps and marshes. To the North lay the Northlands, a rather wild and wicked place; it was constantly torn by war and strife. In the South there was the Southfrost, a cold and harsh place with its frigid winds that cut into the skin like daggers and the snow-covered rocky cliffs that stood out like white teeth in grey gum. Somewhere close to what people believed to be the crossing of the cardinal lines lay the grand city of Camat, it was often believed to be the centre of the world. While it’s geographical location was more or less in the centre of the four regions, it was not the primary reason for people to think so. Other than being the central trading hub, it was the home of the royal family, who—even though most areas were mostly self-governed—held the most power over all the regions.
The former part of Pipebarrow’s name was owed to its plentiful production of smoking pipes. In particular there were two great families of pipe-folk living in this town: the Wilters and the Lofers. Each produced the highest quality of pipes known to this part of the world. ‘You can’t truly enjoy a batch of good tobacco if you don’t smoke it from a pipe made by the one of the Two,’ folks used to say. There wasn’t much competition between the two families. In fact, they quite liked one another, often working together to improve and hone their craft. Leoric himself had helped a great deal with the production of a new kind of pipe. He taught the families how to draw the Igni rune, which he suggested they put on the inside of the chamber of their pipes so people could light their tobacco without the need for matches. As for the tobacco, that came from the third great family living in Pipebarrow: the Tobys. Their tobacco was not the only one, of course, but it was certainly one of more respected pipe-weeds in the Westwoods. The people that smoked it usually referred to it as Old Mary. Marianne Toby was the woman who first introduced the town to pipe-weed in the Old Days and also the one who kick-started the pipe-making industry, so as a sign of respect for the old lady the brand was named after her. Old Mary was Leoric’s favourite type of pipe-weed, it was sweet and bitter and made the prettiest smoke rings, and reminded him much of the merry days of his troubled youth. But this morning, he had no time for blowing smoke rings, for there was much to do in preparation of the grand opening.
Leoric spent most of the morning moving the last few boxes of materials from his home to his new shop, as well as cleaning and making the place feel welcoming and cosy. His close friend Freddy (Frederic) had helped him all the way from purchasing the establishment, to furnishing it and spreading the word.
Leoric much liked to think patrons would come to his shop just because it was a nice place to be. He loved entertaining guests and exchanging stories about happenings in the world and people’s lives. But there was always one story he would never tell anyone, and it had to do with the scar on his wrist. You see, Leoric’s family was cursed many generations ago and throughout his youth he experienced many dreadful visions and nightmares. His father had succumbed to this curse before Leoric was born and so his mother left him at an orphanage when he was just a baby. There he grew up until he was a young lad in his teens, when one day an old fellow invited him to a place called Arca. A school of magic, the only one in the world in fact. Its name carried with it some respect, those who were chosen to go to Arca often became great wizards and sorcerers and the ability to cast Triunes was often used synonymously with its name, for only those born into magic are chosen to attend. He lived there for a while learning the art of runesmithing as well as gaining knowledge of the arcane arts, until he was expelled for breaking the rules too many times. ‘Rules are meant to be tested,’ he thought at the time, ‘how else are we going to figure out the limits of the world.’
During his time at Arca, he learned a little bit about his parents. The school had possibly the largest library in the world, and it contained many family annals, Leoric’s included. But the Ravenwind annals were rather short and little information was actually contained within. He spent a great deal of time wandering the world, before settling down in Pipebarrow. But that was a long thirty years ago.
The scar on his wrist he carved in with a knife while he was still studying at Arca, he didn’t trust ink much to stay on for a long while and certainly didn’t fancy having to inscribe new runes every few weeks. The rune was a Triune; it contained a rune to ward against nightmares, a rune to ward ones sight against things that are not and one to ward ones mind from unwanted guests. It had protected him well against the effects of his curse throughout his years and even though he inspected its well-being every morning by habit, his mind had quite forgotten about it. And as of the present, there were much more important things to think about. A fairly large group of people—there seemed to be around fifteen of them—had already gathered in front of his new shop, waiting from him to come out and give a grand opening speech—as per tradition.
Before long the pair felt quite content at the look of the tiny shop, there was a great ash counter in the middle and there were two wooden shelves placed perpendicular to the entrance filling both sides of the room. Behind the counter was a big stone hearth which would keep the shop warm on cold winter days. He was quite ready to receive the—now even larger—group of people outside. He grabbed a small wooden stool, opened the doors wide and went outside. Then he stepped onto the stool and waved his hands and cleared his throat. The chatter soon died down and he began his speech: ‘Welcome! Welcome my friends and companions! To the grand opening of The Chisel & Quill! Of course it goes without saying that all this would not have been possible if it weren’t for you lovely folks. I sincerely hope I can continue to be of great service to this wonderful town and to its wonderful people.’ Leoric paused, he wasn’t quite sure what to say next. Some probing looks were exchanged between the guests, as if to make sure he was in fact done speaking.
Freddy clapped his hands and spoke up: ‘I believe what my friend is trying to say is: we would very much like to welcome you all inside to explore and peruse the wares—and perhaps even place some orders!’ he chuckled to himself as he stepped aside.
‘Indeed! I would be more than glad to help you with whatever you need—be it inscribing runes, magical advice or even just a merry chat!’ Leoric said and with that, stepped down from his stool, fully opened the doors to his shop and went inside. A stream of people followed him in eagerly, only all to curious to see what he had in stock. They were not let down, the wooden shelves were laden with all sorts of small charms, tokens and other paraphernalia. Dream‐catchers, window‐lockers, fire‐lighters, flash‐sticks and turning‐coins were among the more popular items on the shelves. Leoric earned quite a sum of money that day, as he sold over half his initial stock. Of course he paid his friend handsomely even though he kept refusing to be paid any money at all. It wasn’t until he pushed a pouch filled with coin into Freddy’s hands that he finally accepted the money Leoric felt he owed him.
The shop remained busy long past supper and Leoric and Freddy were having a relaxing chat with the Old Smoker and his wife. The old man had earned his nickname because he was never seen without his pipe in hand and smoke rings floating in the air around him; tonight was no different. Currently Old Smoker was trying figure out why Leoric couldn’t produce him a pipe with a certain rune he had heard about from someone.
‘Say, you wouldn’t be able to draw one of them weed-runes, would ya?’
‘I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that.’ Leoric said.
‘Why not? Aren’t you one of them magic folk that can make things appear and disappear?’
‘I am, but I can’t just conjure you an infinite supply of pipe-weed. For one conjuration and transmutation are the domains of alchemists—and I’m no alchemist—and conjured delicacies, especially ones like tobacco lose most (if not all) of their flavour. Also not to mention how the impact on the tobacco trade it would have.’
The old man let out a disappointed sigh, ‘I ‘spose you would know best, which means that the gaffer lied to me.’
‘I’m sorry Smoker. Even if I was able to do it, I would still refuse to do so. I wouldn’t ever be able to create a pipe-weed as lovely as Old Mary’s. I think it best you stick with that—’
Something happened at that moment that had not happened in many years. As he glanced between Old Smoker and his wife he saw that their faces had lost any resemblance of their ordinary structure. They were eye-less, nose-less and mouth-less and all their hair had turned into twitching and slimy appendages, slithering and grasping at the air. It was quite disconcerting indeed. Suddenly he heard a voice, it was Old Smoker: ‘You al-right there Mr. Ravenwind? Worked too hard today, eh?’ Leoric looked straight at the old man, but there was no sound-hole to be seen.
‘I’m sorry!’ he said as took a few steps back in fear of the appendages latching on to him instead, ‘I seem to feel a little sick. Perhaps it’s best we continue this conversation another time. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh al-right, young man. I think it best we should leave anyhow. My bones are starting to ache,’ Old Smoker said and he left the shop.
‘Please, I need you all to leave. I think I just need some rest. Come by tomorrow? I’m sure I’ll feel better then!’ said Leoric, forcing himself to smile at the faceless people in front of him.
It took a little while but everyone made their way outside and went on about their evenings As soon as the last customer had left Leoric closed and locked the door. Freddy was still inside with him and led him to the chair behind the counter.
‘Don’t worry lad, you’re probably just exhausted from the long and exciting day,’ said Freddy handing him a glass of water. Leoric pulled up the sleeve on covering his left wrist and inspected his scar. It had faded, in fact it was almost completely gone! It had receded a little, and unlike before it was soft to the touch.
‘Let’s get you home,’ said Freddy and wrapped Leoric’s arm around his shoulder. Then the pair slowly made their way to Leoric’s house. Leoric could feel his breath becoming faster and more shallow with every step they took, the cold evening air sending making him shiver and shake didn’t help much either. When they reached his house, Leoric went soon to bed and fell in a restless and dreadful slumber.
In the morning, Leoric awoke to the comforting smell of breakfast. Freddy had stayed the night to make sure he would be well tended to and was now preparing breakfast downstairs. Leoric glanced at his wrist, the scar was still faded; last night had not been a dream. He dreaded going downstairs, not knowing whether he was going to find his friend faceless or not. But still he did go down and much to his relief, everything had returned to their normal selves.
The pair ate breakfast in silence and after sat by the warm fire of the hearth. There they each smoked their pipes, Leoric smoked from one of the pipes he had helped design, a Wilter pipe. Freddy much preferred the shape and taste of the wood used for the Lofer pipes. They talked about the surprising amount of things they sold during the opening. And then they sang merrily a song they had come up with when they were, much like now, relaxing by a warm hearth in big round leather chairs and blowing smoke rings.If your days are troubled,And your thoughts have doubled,If your nights are weary,And your mornings dreary,Sit by the hearth or sit in the sun,Fill your pipe with Old Mary,And smoke until day is done,Then you’ll feel good and merry.
Leoric felt the events of the previous night fade to nothing more than a distant memory, but before they were allowed to fully fade from his mind Freddy brought it up once more.
‘What happened to you last night?’ asked he.
Leoric fingered his scar and opened his mouth several times to speak, but promptly closed it again. He wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to burden his friend with his troubles.
After a good while of pondering he finally decided that Freddy deserved to know and so he began:
‘I am cursed,’ he said slowly, ‘it makes me see dark and dreadful things. But that didn’t matter any more, I had inscribed a rune on my wrist many years ago and that has protected me since—or had, rather. I do not know why, but it has begun fading.’
‘I’m afraid I do not quite understand. When were you cursed? Why has it not affected you until now?’
‘It has, I struggled a great deal with it in my younger years, when I was still a small lad,’ said Leoric and showed his faded scar to Freddy who—although not versed in the arts of magic could tell the scar contained runes—inspected it thoroughly and traced his fingers over it.
‘So this scar has been protecting you? It looks faded, more like a birthmark than a scar.’
‘It did not always look like this,’ said Leoric, ‘in fact, until last night, it did not appear faded at all—rather it looked more like the wound had only just healed a few days before.’
‘Then if you plagued by this cursed, shouldn’t you look for a way to remove it?’
‘Perhaps I should. Since I carved the runes into my wrist it hadn’t plagued me any more, so I had quite forgotten about it. But I think you are right, warding runes are not much of a solution. But I am not well versed in curses; I would need to find someone who is. Then, I should not hope to leave home yet, not so soon after opening the shop.’ They had both put much effort into the shop and the thought of leaving that seemed like a waste.
‘You need not leave the shop unattended, I can run it for you—unless you would prefer some company on the road. Even then it is not like your shop will cease to exist if you leave town for a while.’
Leoric thought for a moment, Freddy was right. The only thing he would lose by leaving town were some potential profits. He was already rather well respected in Pipebarrow, so his reputation could take the hit. But still it seemed rather a daunting journey to undertake.
‘My dear friend,’ said he, ‘I’m really not too sure what I would do without you. I would leave town to search for an answer, but I have no idea where even to begin! There is so much I don’t know about this curse and I know of no one that could perhaps tell me more. The whole thing feels like an impossible task.’
‘And yet possible it might be,’ said Freddy with a glimmer in his eye, ‘I might be able to give you a starting point. You how I frequent the Lonely Maid—the local tavern—and you know how folks love gossip over there. Well I heard a rumour, you see, from an older fellow and I mean proper old. Looked to be over a hundred at least, if no two! Anyhow, my ears catch a part of what he’s saying: “a witch has taken residence in Cornstead” he says. “A witch? Like a proper curses and hexes type of witch?” I says to him. “Aye, in fact just the other day I heard she hexed one of them farmers!” he says. To me that sounds like she might know a thing or two about curses. I suppose if she’s going around hexing folks then maybe she ain’t the talking kind, but maybe she’ll be more inclined to talk to one of her own, I mean folks that know magic of course. Like yourself. I don’t mean to say you should leave right this instant, but I thought it might be a good starting point.’
While Leoric’s mind hardened with determination, he still felt at doubt in his heart. He had lived in Pipebarrow for over three decades, and wasn’t going to just up and leave it so suddenly. And as much as he liked adventures in his younger years, he had grown accustomed to the quiet life he now had and much preferred smoking some Old Mary from his pipe by the hearth.