The Flying Flagon
Fiction: Drink Fenny’s ale from the Flying Flagon and you’ll feel as fierce as a f*cking dragon!
This short story (an excerpt from a novel in progress) was written for the Soaring Twenties Social Club (STSC) Symposium with the theme of “flight.” (If you are interested, more details about the STSC below the story). Also, since reading fiction in an email reader isn’t always the best experience, I have created downloadable PDF and EPUB versions of The Flying Flagon which you may download by clicking the version you want: PDF | Epub. Enjoy!
The Flying Flagon
After weeks at sea, the mage Ozzymanthius and his apprentice, Katia, debarked the merchant ship, Sirena, and merged into the crowd in the small town of Porto Cava, “Cave Harbor,” which was confined to a giant cave that opened to the sea hundreds of feet below the main town of Val’Mora above.
“Watch yer backs in Cave Harbor ya witchy wizards! It’s full of scum like me-self!” yelled Sirena’s salty old captain, Barnabus Stormsworn, from the ship’s deck.
Ozzy held up a hand and waved his thanks to the crusty old sailor who cackled madly as he went back to work.
“Stormsworn’s a bid mad, but it’s good advice,” Ozzy said to Katia, “this is a rough little port town. We should stick to the main streets and avoid any dark and questionable alleys.”
The two meandered through the throng of unsavory sailors (who leered at Katia), nobility headed to their ships (or nobility returning from some adventure), dock workers, vagrants, young (and dirty) children (most likely pickpockets), merchants (paying the local union men to carry goods from cargo ships to the grand city of Val’Mora on the surface). Katia kept one hand tightly on her staff and the other on her money purse.
Ozzymanthius suddenly veered left into a dark twisting alley: one of the very alleys she assumed he would avoid.
“Where are you going?” Katia yelled, struggling to keep up with the old wizard’s brisk pace.
He simply shrugged. Then, after a pause, he turned around and gave her a sheepish grin, “I’m thirsty.”
Katia rolled her eyes.
“Ah, here we are. Look,” Ozzy gestured behind him.
Katia looked at the non-descript door. Above the door hung an ancient, broken piece of ship’s decking with a crude drawing of a flagon with wings.
“Welcome to The Flying Flagon.” Ozzymantheus chuckled.
“Can’t you wait to wet your whistle until we get up to the city of Val’Mora proper, old man?”
“Ah Katia, you must learn the art of patience. Plus, as you undoubtedly know, our colleagues in the blue tower high above us frown upon the imbibing of spirits. Besides, who knows what we might learn, down here among the common folk of Cave Harbor, hmmmm?
A flight of ol’ Fenric’s Flagons will set us both to rights. Haven’t you heard what the locals say about Fenny Flannigan’s flagons?”
Katia sighed, “No, I haven’t, but I suppose you’re going to tell me.”
“Of course, of course! Let me see if I can remember. Hmmm. Oh, yes! It goes something like this…..”
To her horror, Ozzymathius, her master, Fifth Level Mage of the Val’Mage order, hero of the Revenant War, giggled and started to sing as he danced a little jig:
Drink Fenny’s ale from the Flying Flagon and you’ll feel as fierce as a fucking dragon!
Still giggling, Ozzy blushed. She assumed from singing the word ‘fucking.’ And, without waiting for Katia to respond, Ozzy opened the door: The rusty hinges creaked and smoke assaulted her eyes while a cacophony of raised voices attacked her ears — the kind of voices that inevitably ring out wherever large, hard-working men, drink.
The raised and inebriated voices inside were singing, “and you’ll feel as fierce as a fucking dragon!”
“Ah, I see we’ve arrived just in time for a round of song!” Ozzymantheus laughed, clapped his hands together, and disappeared into the smoke.
“By the spirit!” Katia cursed and, pulling her coin purse even closer, stepped into the mad melee.
She waited a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the smoky dim room and looked around.
She saw large men with unshaven faces. Beer bellies. The camaraderie of men singing. Barmaids. Serious breasts in busty too-tight braziers as is expected for such taverns. Sailors returned from long voyages eyeing those breasts. Drunk men threatening each other. Raised fists. Male posturing. Sword-belts and daggers. Tall tales. Pipes and cigars stuck between crooked teeth. An ignored bard singing by the fire. Beer spilling. Sticky floors. The smell of old ale mixed with old smoke. Tattoos. Vulgar words like ‘cunt’ and ‘cock.’ Laughing eyes and mouths. Merriment. Tears in beers. A green-faced man running toward the door. More drunks. Money changing hands. An overworked man behind the bar. People sitting alone, staring into their flagons. People yelling.
All in all, it was the kind of place she would prefer to avoid. She girded her resolve and walked into the room.
She hadn’t taken more than about five steps, when a large hairy arm grabbed her, and an equally hairy man, attached to the hairy arm, burped in her face, hiccuped, and demanded, “How about another round of ales for me-self and me lads! Missy?”
“Umm, I don’t work here, sir,” Katia said.
“Ah!” his eyes lit up, “all the better missy. How about you settle down on me lap then for a drink or two?”
“Umm, no thank you?” She said, trying to be polite, “I need to join my companion. Perhaps you can direct me? He must have just walked by. He has a long white beard and hair to match. Did you see him?”
“Yeah, I saw the old fart, missy, whatya want ta hang about him fer? I’ll show ye a good time. Me name’s Borin. Why don’t ya spend t’night with a real man?”
Borin was still holding her arm and, though his face still smiled, his grip tightened.
Katia caught sight of Ozzy across the smoky room, his back to her, talking with a hooded stranger.
“I thank you for the…um…..’tempting’…..offer, but my schedule doesn’t allow me to engage in pleasure today. So, I must insist that you let me go, Borin: As a real gentleman would.”
“Ahhh missy. That’s yer first mistake. I ain’t no gentleman.” The other men at the table snickered and guffawed. “I didna say no ‘gentleman’, I said a real man.”
“Real man or not Borin, let me go. Now. I insist. Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Hurt me? Is that a threat missy? You hear that boys? Lil’ missy here is going to hurt me if I don’t let her go.” He reached up with his other hand and grabbed her backside.
Startled, Katia screamed.
“Borin!”
A deep and dangerous voice rang out behind her.
The voice was friendly, but with an edge of menace, “Let her go Borin, my friend. She’s with me and I didn’t see her come in. Allow me to buy you and the boys a round of drinks — on me.”
Borin’s friends cheered while Katia whirled around to see the hooded stranger standing behind her. His face was in shadow, but she could tell that the man was fit, and he moved with the confident grace of a swordsman. Ozzymanthius stood behind the man, glaring at Borin and his eyes held the faint glow of his power.
“I suggest you take me up on my offer,” the dark stranger added, lowering his hand to grip the hilt of his sword.
Borin fumed.
His face turned red and he was clearly angry at being embarrassed in front of his friends.
But he composed himself and said, “As ye wish Asher. Me apologies, I didna know she wassa friend of yers. Thank ya for the drinks.”
“Totally understandable, Borin. But now you do know. I’ll have a barmaid bring your drinks over.”
Asher signaled Fenny, the owner, to serve a round to Borin and his friends.
Fenny nodded back at Asher.
“Come, Katia, our table is in the back corner. Allow me to show you.”
Asher smoothly slipped his arm around her waist and escorted her through the smoky room, while Borin glared daggers at their retreating backs.
Katia held her tongue until they were seated and then she turned to Asher and said, “I don’t know who you think you are, pretty boy, but I had the situation under control. I can take care of myself!”
“Easy! Easy! Young lady. I was just trying to help. Ozzy here speaks highly of you, and I have no doubt that you are quite capable of defending yourself. I assure you, I only stepped in to prevent bloodshed. You misunderstand my intentions.
“I didn’t step in to save you from Borin. I stepped in to save Borin from you.
“Ozzy tells me you’re his best apprentice since….”
Ozzy cleared his throat and looked meaningfully at Asher.
“Since what?” Asked Katia.
“Since I’ve known him,” Asher replied.
Katia frowned, but Asher continued, “Anyway, Borin has a hot temper and I could see he was getting in over his head with you. He's a decent fellow — when he’s not drunk. I figured you and Ozzy didn’t need any, let’s say, local entanglements here in Cave Harbor. As I understand it, you are on a schedule and need to get to Val’Oro to be ordained.”
Katia raised an eyebrow at Ozzymanthius.
“It’s okay, Katia,” Ozzy replied to her unasked question.
The old wizard paused, took a long swig of his ale, and then continued, “Ahhh, I needed that. I told Asher of our plans. You can trust him. In fact, our plans are one reason he jumped in to keep you from getting entangled with the authorities here in Cave Harbor.”
Katia sighed, “Fine, it seems I owe you my thanks, good sir,” she said to Asher.
“Think nothing of it,” Asher replied.
Katia noticed that, though Asher appeared relaxed, his eyes were alert, they took in everything, darting around the watering hole, scanning for threats. Despite his cavalier attitude, he drank little of his ale.
“Would you like an ale?” Asher asked. He moved to flag down a barmaid, but Katia reached up and pushed his arm down.
“Like you, I prefer to keep my wits about me,” Katia replied.
She looked him directly in the eyes and saw that he understood she had noticed the fullness of his ale and that she also excelled in situational awareness.
Asher chuckled and turned to Ozzymanthius, “I like her Ozzy. I accept your offer!”
He turned to a passing waitress, “Barmaid! Bring an ale for my friend here!” He gestured at Katia.
Katia’s eyebrows flew to the top of her forehead again.
“Offer?” Katia turned to glare at Ozzy.
“Relax, Katia” Ozzymanthius intervened, “Asher and I fought together in the Revenant Wars. As I said, I trust him. But besides that, the roads between here and the capital have become more dangerous than they used to be. Asher doesn’t like to brag, but he knows his way around a sword. And I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“We don’t need a swordsman, Ozzymanthius!” Katia cried, “We can take care of ourselves. Bandits are no match for us! Besides, the blue tower will provide us with ordained guards should we request them!
“And you,” she turned to Asher, “I said no to the ale!”
“Katia,” Asher said calmly, “I ordered the ale so as not to arouse suspicion. You’ve already been involved in a scene with Borin. People talk. And nobody comes to The Flying Flagon to not drink.”
Ozzy interrupted, “I understand your hesitation Katia, nevertheless, Asher is coming with us. He’s traveling our way anyway, and defending ourselves, should the need arise, with mundane weapons will draw less attention.
“And, let’s just say, I have trust issues with anyone whom the blue tower might pair with us.”
Katia drew in a breath. That was a serious concern. Katia looked around the room.
“What are you saying?” She asked.
Asher also looked around and leaned in, “I was just filling in Ozzy about the rumors I’ve heard, Katia, while you were dancing with poor Borin.”
Katia frowned, but Asher continued as if he hadn’t noticed, “keep in mind, these are just rumors, but I’ve heard that the Black Legion has infiltrated the Val’mage order, including the blue tower. They may just be rumors though.”
Asher sat back, took a small sip of his ale, and scanned the room again.
“So you see, Katia,” Ozzy said, “why I prefer to hire our own guard, discreetly. Since Asher and I have fought together in the past, nobody will question his decision to travel with us.”
The barmaid arrived with Katia’s ale, and Asher gave her a roguish grin as she bent in front of him to set it on the table. He handed her a Valorian silver coin as a tip and she returned his grin with a coy smile and a raised eyebrow.
Katia rolled her eyes as the barmaid swaggered away.
Asher chuckled.
Ozzymanthius reached into his robe to pull out his pipe and his stash of Whiteweed. He started packing the bowl while Katia absorbed what Asher had shared.
Katia bit her lip and stared at the head on her ale for a long moment. Then she took a sip and asked, “How can the Black Legion arise again? I thought the Dark Mage was defeated in The Revenant War.”
Asher shrugged and answered, “I know not. I only know what I have heard: that somehow, he is back. And, still darker, there are additional rumors that he now controls powerful twisted and evil beings that serve him. They are rumored to be even more powerful than, well, you, Ozzy.”
Ozzy’s brow furrowed, but all he said was, “that is concerning, indeed.”
Katia turned to Ozzymanthius, “If true, master, this changes everything. We have to be careful!”
“Ahh, there she is,” Ozzymanthius said in a muffled tone as he puffed on the pipe to get it lit. He sat back, pulled the pipe out of his mouth, and held it by the bowl. He pointed the long mouthpiece at Katia, and made little stabbing motions, punctuating each word as he spoke (as she knew he loved to do when he was making a point), “I knew you’d see things my way.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this sooner? We could have planned everything differently!” Katia cried.
“I had heard whispers of the reappearance of the Black Legion, but they were just that, whispers. I didn’t want to worry you for nothing.”
He paused to blow a smoke ring.
Katia glanced at Asher who was sitting with his hood drawn. She couldn’t see his face but had the distinct feeling that nothing happening in this room escaped his awareness.
The old wizard set his pipe down and continued, “I wanted to confirm the rumors once we arrived here in Cave Harbor. I didn’t know it would be Asher, of all people, that we’d bump into, but, by the spirit! That is a fortunate blessing! There are few I trust more than him. It matters not for our plans though, if we had altered our plans, The Mage Order would have questioned it and, if we have indeed been infiltrated by the Black Legion, that change would have turned their attention to us. As things stand now, we have a slight element of surprise.”
The sly old fox. Katia thought.
“You continue to surprise me, old man. Perhaps you still have a few things left to teach me, master. So what’s the plan?” Katia asked.
“For the moment, no change to the plan. Except, of course, that Asher will travel with us. We’ll finish our ale, proceed to the blue tower and procure provisions and horses. I’ll see what I can wheedle out of my contacts there. And then we’ll be on our way to Val’Oro. We can stop along the way and learn what we can about these rumors. With any luck, they’ll be just that, empty rumors, and your ordination can proceed as planned. If there is truth to the rumors, we’ll adjust our plans as we learn more information. Do you both agree?”
Asher just grunted and almost imperceptibly nodded in acknowledgement.
Katia took a long draught of her ale and then turned to Ozzymanthius, “I agree.”
None of them, including Asher, noticed a black mouse standing in the corner, just behind their table. As they made their agreement, it turned and scurried back into a small dark hole in the corner.
If they had been watching, they would have seen that, as it entered the darkness, it turned its head back for a final glance, and its eyes, for just a moment, flashed bright red. And then it scurried off, disappearing into the darkness.
This is an excerpt from a novel I have in the works, of which only a few chapters have been written. If you liked this excerpt from the developing tale of The Valorian Empire, please show your support by throwing me some Valorian silver coins — I mean — some likes or comments.
Also, since this story may reappear as a chapter in the novel, any feedback regarding grammar, edits, or specific areas of confusion would be welcome.
In thanks for your silver, likes, comments and feedback, I promise to buy you a Flying Flagon next time we find ourselves at Fenny Flannigan’s tavern, and you too, will feel as fierce as a fucking dragon!
Downloadable print versions:
This short story was written for the Soaring Twenties Social Club (STSC) Symposium. The STSC is a small, exclusive online speakeasy where a dauntless band of raconteurs, writers, artists, philosophers, flaneurs, musicians, idlers, and bohemians share ideas and companionship. Occasionally, STSC members create something around a set theme. This time the theme was “flight.” If you are a writer, I encourage you to consider joining us, I’ve included details at the bottom of this post. Lastly, you can find all my past symposium pieces by clicking here.
If you’d like to support independent writing online, you can subscribe to the STSC publication here. If you are a writer yourself, I encourage you to join us. You’d be joining a group of like minded compatriots. We have nearly 300 incredible writers & artists in our private Discord group (which will be capped at 300). As an author member, you’d have the opportunity to have your own writing appear on the STSC publication. To become a writing member, simply sign up as a premium subscriber on our founder’s, Thomas J. Bevan, personal Substack by clicking here. Once you do, Tom will send you an invite for our Discord group. Tell him “Clintavo” sent you!
Clint, this is absolutely stunning!! Riveting!! I loved every word!! Keep writing!!! And keep us updated!!!