Notes in Treble

Once more Hathroc carefully wound the silver thread that had lined his once magnificent robes around his finger, he murmured over and over the precise actions of the spell. He had exhausted all the other bits of silver; this would be his final attempt. He took a deep breath and looked around focusing on what he was doing this for. Forty three people sat on make shift rafts, bits of timber and drift lashed together with whatever they had, it didn’t float.

When the floods had come with the great earth shakes a few fortnights back, the people of the Bard City scattered and ran. He had tried to get them to stick together, tried to get them to follow him; few did, trust for the necromancer had not be high after Talib. A score or so people had followed him, racing to the top of the northern cliffs, still the water had come. Hathroc had used more than a few spells to drop trees in a hurry so they could float… the water at the very highest point, was four and a half feet deep, and cold. They watched in horror has pieces of the Bard city would float up, quickly they would scramble to gather the pieces, making larger rafts.

It had been the Slag Giant Ayla who had gone back, she had swam and looked for air pockets and brought them to the surface, now she swam carrying or dragging another fifteen or so survivors. Quickly room was made on the raft, it couldn’t hold the giant nor all the people. Ayla sat in the water holding up the other end, keeping the people as dry as possible. Hathroc has used as many spells as he had to warm her, but the magic was minor and no use against the draining effects of the cold water. As the days crept on things got worse. The towns people begged for him to save them; he hadn’t had his spell book when the waters had come, he didn’t have the spells to move them out or call for help. The Giant had however given him an idea.

Reaching out with his mind he searched. Talib had a few undead in the surrounding areas that had not been hunted down yet. Hathroc called them to his aid. The zombies shambled to the rafts and stood below, holding them out of the water. That protected the people, and took the strain off of Ayla, but she would not last forever in the water, even with a giants constitution

He had sat down and decided he would rebuild a spell. SENDING… normally needed copper wire, he had none, he would recreate it, without books or components, it would use the silver thread from his robes, he would call for help, and these people would be saved. Now here he sat enough components to try this spell once; but who to ask… who was he kidding, he would have to ask the only ones who could potentially come this quickly, and just hope they were still alive. He unwound and rewound the string once more, going through the motions. He then stood and turned to the people with him

“Ok people, I am going to make one last attempt, please be as quiet as you can, and try not to jostle me, if this works help should be on the way, if not….” He let it hang out there, there was no Plan B.

He inhaled deeply and cast; focusing his entire being on this one spell, never before had it been more important to get through

“This is Hathroc, I’m with survivors of the Bard City, We are dying, we need help immediately, we are at the northern cliffs. Please Save Us”

Entarez mopped his forehead, shaking off the effects of the dream and preparing to re-enter his trance. It was then he heard the high pitch hum that he couldn’t shake

“…. Is …hroc, … with survivors …. The Bard Cit… Dying….. immediately ….. northern cliff…. Save Us”

Entarez could recognize the spell as a form of sending, but their seemed to be an odd echo or buzz within the spell, also he didn’t feel the tingle of magic that normally allowed him to respond the buzz and high pitch hum began to fade… before the thought left him he jumped up and turned to Gwynolin

“MATCH THAT NOTE!” he had not meant to startle his friend, but time was of the essence, ever loyal his companion listened a moment and began to send out the same high pitch note. Entarez focused reaching deep within himself to feel the vibe of the weave; it was a technique he had begun to practice with Illaite when he had thought to learn Honalian magic, now he hoped he had grasped enough of it. “louder please Gwyn, put all you have into it” the little blue throated thrush took a deep breath and sang with everything he had, matching the hum and note… that was it, that was the frequency, Entarez reached in and grabbed the magic with all he could pulling the garbled message and retooling it

“This is Hathroc, I’m with survivors of the Bard City, We are dying, we need help immediately, we are at the northern cliffs. Please Save Us”

There was still no chance at a response, the spell Hathroc had used did not allow for it, so be it. the Hum faded as Gwynolin ran out of breath and the spell was gone. Entarez smiled at his companion patting him once on the head

“Well done friend, I could not have gotten the spell without you” with that he grabbed his spell book and opened it, he would have to re-memorize his spells quickly before he could act.

To be continued?



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