the forest. And... wait, let me think.....Habrok scouts for us and keeps overwatch. You
carry me and the tarp. Don’t forget the staff. I don’t think I have the energy to walk for
a while. Do it now. I can’t keep my eyes open and I am finding it difficult to think.”
After some time, Tyler felt hoisted. Opening an eye, he found himself on Jorund’s right
shoulder. The man was carrying his staff on his left hand while waterskins and a sack of
food slung from his left. Man, this guy is strong. He closed his eyes and found that the
resistance in his mind to sleeping was gone. His last thought before his beauty sleep
was how and why did it disappear.
He woke up and found himself lying down on the tarp, Jorund was a few feet away.
Habrok was nowhere to be seen. Oh, my aching head. His mind was now clearer but he
still felt weak. Jorund noticed that he had awoken and came over with the waterskin.
“Hungry, my lord?”
He nodded and Jorund also gave him some bread and meat. While he was eating,
Jorund was looking at him. The man had something on his mind. He decided to ask his
questions first.
“Where are we? And where’s Habrok?”
“Deeper in the forest, my lord. We’re in a defile and are already some distance from the
old cabin. About four miles. Habrok went back to remove traces of our passage. Also to
see what’s happening. He’ll be back in an hour or so. About two hours have already
passed since he left. We’ll need to know if they start moving in this direction.”
“Oh, that’s excellent. Wait. You carried me for four miles?”
“Yes, my lord but don’t worry about it. You were very light. Suffering from magical
exhaustion.”
“Magical exhaustion?”
“You didn’t know about that risk, my lord?”
“Please stop calling me “my lord”. Where I come from, that title is not acceptable at all.
And to tell you the truth, it makes me uncomfortable. You can call me Havard. If you
have to use a title or something, just call me “Sir” or “Sire”.
“As you wish. But I cannot call you by your given name. It is not proper. We are sworn
to you. What is this “Sir” and “Sire”?”
“The word “sir” can be used to refer to a senior of a person or a leader in a military group. It is a word of respect. “Sire” is used sometimes instead of Lord. It can also be a
title of respect or may refer to a respected elder.”
“I think we would prefer “Sire”. Please consider that when a person to whom oaths of
service have been given also have titles of respect and honor, such honor is also shared
by the people who serve him. Sire. Honoring you in the presence of others also gives us
honor in return."
“I can settle with “Sire”, Jorund.”
“Sire, would you mind if I ask you some questions. I don’t intend to pry. But this has to
do with the condition you experienced.”
“I think that’s reasonable.”
“First, I don’t think you had formal magical training, Sire. Even if the Gothi of Maljen
treated you as a mage with respect and honor. I doubt if you were ever a trader at all.
Magical exhaustion is a condition which even apprentice mages know about. It is one of
the main dangers of spell casting. Casting spells means forcing magical energy through
a mortal vessel. It is draining, exhausting, and if uncontrolled, dangerous to mind and
body. During our training for combat magic, we lost two men due to magical
exhaustion. One became mad and the other died when the magical energy burned his
innards and left him a husk.”
“WHAT?”
“We are but mortal, Sire. Mages cannot maintain continuous use of spells. Even the
casting of three minor ones in quick succession will exhaust an ordinary mage. Adepts
can try but almost all have to settle for two. The most I have seen is five successive
minor spells but the mage collapsed. Mages need a little time between spells for their
bodies to recover from the use of magical energy. A High Mage can probably manage
three major spells and two minor ones in one casting session but even that is a draining
exercise. Yet I have seen you cast spell after spell, major fireball spells at that and that blade spell, with negligible effect on you. It took your casting of continuous spells
against the dokkalfr wagons and the jotnar heavy catapults to finally wear you down.
And in all that time, I have not seen you use a runic plate or tablet.”
“And what do you think?”
“Habrok has no idea of magical issues, Sire. All he uses are prepared items. He won’t
understand what he saw you do back at the clearing and against the enemy host. But I
do. But you are my lord now. More than a lord. What the All-Father made me do is fit
for a god. I have no reservations or regrets about my vow. What I have seen stays with
me. I am concerned about your lack of knowledge on the mortal dangers of magical use. I worry it may lead to your unwitting death or madness. Do not get me wrong,
Sire. You are the most powerful human mage I have ever seen. The fact you can cast
spells without runes and spells nobody had even thought of, like those blades and those
spheres of fire, make you a uniquely powerful magic user in the whole of Adar. I am
honored to be at your service and I am proud to have given you my oath.”
“What else have you seen me do?”
“Those dokkalfr you removed from existence the night of the ambush and the attack on
the jotnar encampment. You have clearly met the All-Father, something even the High
Mages, the Jarls, and the High King cannot say for themselves. You have survived
Fossegrim and one of its drakes. It is clear you have the favor of the power that resides
in Fossegrim Forest. Those alone are the stuff of legends. And your quest has just
started.”
“Ah, Jorund. I begin to think you already suspect me as
