by Randy Nargi
The mage looked confused.
Asryn continued, “Go ahead, cast any spell you want. Aim it right at me. I’m not afraid. Go ahead.”
“Your Grace?”
“C’mon, son. Hit me with a fireball or a lightning bolt. Give it a try.”
There was some murmuring among the mages.
Aglaard Shie stepped up and addressed the crowd. “If you feel it is disrespectful to aim a spell at the Lord Governor, please feel free to try to cast any spell you want. Maybe silence or light.”
Some of the mages did just that. Asryn grinned as all around him spells fizzled.
“I told you folks. Magic just don’t work here. That means no one can use magic to find you. Now, are there any more questions?”
A tall mage asked, “Forgive my impertinence, Your Grace, but why exactly are you sheltering us? I mean, this is tantamount to treason, is it not?”
“Son, sometimes you just have to do what’s right—and damn the consequences. But I ask you, isn’t it treason to falsely imprison hundreds of loyal citizens? Fact is, the Viceroy has gone too far. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. So, there you have it. You can join us, accept our protection—and we ask nothing in return by the way. Or you are free to leave. We’ll even give you a wagon ride out beyond the walls where your magic won’t be disrupted and you can teleport anywhere you want. But if you do leave, know that you will be hunted. Mark my words, I know for a fact that the Viceroy’s got men scouring the Empire for mages, rounding them up. So if you go and they catch you—which they probably will—you’ll find yourself back in a cell in Old Lausk. Or worse. It could be worse, you know.”
Aglaard Shie nodded. “Any who wants to leave, speak now.”
Only three men spoke up. One of them was Herron, the Guild Master from Vale.
“Okay, good,” Asryn said. “You three, follow that guard there. He’ll see you out to the wagon. Good luck to you.” Those poor bastards would get what they deserved. Once they were out of sight of the rest of the crowd, Gredarl Kar’s men would slit their throats. But Asryn didn’t lie about the wagon ride. The bodies would be transported by wagon to one of Gredarl Kar’s nearby farms—where they would be fed to the hogs.
Good riddance.
Chapter Twenty-One
THEY HAD SPENT MOST OF THE NIGHT WORKING OUT A SERIES OF PLANS, BUT BANDER WASN’T REALLY CONFIDENT ANY OF THEM WOULD WORK. Bryn Eresthar, Jaden, and Niam would return to Aberhall where they could work with Bryn Eresthar’s sister and try to gather more information about Asryn’s plans. Meomannan Quill had departed last night to pursue his own agenda, which he declined to share with the team. And finally, Hirbo Thrang and Silbra Dal decided to seek out the Witches of Melikti to see if they could gather more information about who might be the mastermind behind this conspiracy.
Upon hearing everyone's plans Faramir Boldfist said, "I made all these cots for nothing!"
“Don’t worry. We shall return soon,” Hirbo Thrang said. “The Witches are not known for their hospitality.”
“What will you do, Captain?” Silbra Dal asked.
“In the morning, Wegg and I will ride to this fortress.”
“I wonder if I should stay and go with you,” Jaden said.
“We’ll be fine. I know what I am doing.”
“Very well.”
“Mistress, before you go, I would be very grateful if you might return my armor,” Bryn Eresthar said.
Silbra Dal arched one eyebrow. “I shall return it when I am done with it.”
“But—”
Hirbo Thrang put his hand on his friend’s arm. “Best to let it go for now.”
That night they ate and drank and talked. It was good, Bander thought. He’d been on his own for so long, he had forgotten what it was like to work together with a team. Of course, he had adventured for years with Bryn Eresthar and Hirbo Thrang, but this new group was different.
Jaden was every bit as accomplished as the three of them. Dusk and her team were younger but showed the kind of skill and quick thinking that made them valuable allies. Niam was quiet, and Bander had never known a locestra before, but the man seemed smart and capable and had good insights. His skills were quite remarkable. He could teleport like a mage, but also track and find people and items in a way that bordered on magical. Of course, Bander was happy to have his old friend Etthar Calain on the team. The former Imperial Magister of the Murmurs was still sharp, despite his age.
Finally, there was Silbra Dal. She remained an enigma. Her training with Hirbo Thrang unlocked an enormous amount of raw power, but it released something else as well. Something dark and hateful.
They all stayed up late, talking and conjecturing. And then in the morning, each group set off, leaving Bander and Etthar Calain with Dusk, Wegg, and Faramir Boldfist.
“Gentlemen, it seems that you are stuck with a trio of thieves,” Wegg said.
“Did you imagine that we’d still be together nearly two months after you pulled us out of prison?” Dusk asked.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Bander said.
“Well, I would,” Faramir Boldfist said. “I’d prefer we stayed at a nice warm inn instead of this drafty warehouse.”
“At least the beds were sound,” Etthar Calain said. “Well done, Faramir Boldfist.”
They ate a meal of smoked fish and bread and then Bander and Wegg bade the rest of the group farewell.
Bander said, “If we do not return by morning, send someone to Aberhall to alert Bryn Eresthar.”
“And what are we supposed to do while you’re gone?” Faramir Boldfist asked.
“I don’t know,” said Wegg. “Build more cots? Maybe you could go into business for yourself...”
“Just keep a low profile,” Bander said.
He and Wegg left the cooperage and went out into the city to purchase some horses. Gredarl Kar’s fortress was probably close enough to travel to on foot, but Bander wanted to be prepared in case they needed to make a swift getaway.
They walked the horses to the edge of town, avoiding the main roads. There was certainly a chance that Chiran Hemmig had alerted Ministries of the Axe in other cities to keep an eye out for someone with Bander’s description, but based on his own experience, the provinces were not predisposed to cooperate with Rundlun on matters like this. But who knew? Maybe the city guards posted at the main entrances and exits would be looking for him.
Luckily, the Steading had no city walls. Instead, the city sprawled in a maze of low buildings for miles in every direction. Back before Waterside was destroyed, the Steading was the fifth largest city in Harion. Now it was the fourth. Over sixty thousand people dwelt here, which made it a good place to get lost in.
They wound their way to the outskirts of the city, past ramshackle blocks of low houses and shops and warehouses.
“How do you know where you are going, Captain?” Wegg asked. “These paths follow no rhyme nor reason.”
“Just mind the shadows. They stretch west and that’s the direction we need to go. This might not be the most direct route, but it certainly is the safest.”
Eventually, the buildings thinned and Bander and Wegg found themselves on a dusty road that curved south around the city. They mounted up and followed the road for a good half hour until it joined with the Northway, the Imperial highway which connected the Steading and Vale.
They saw a fair number of travelers and merchants along the highway. And because the road was wide and well-maintained, it was a popular route with caravans as well.
As they rode, Bander asked if the tragedy in Kreed’s Keep had personally affected Wegg, who he knew was born there.
“I am an orphan,” he explained. “I didn’t have many friends when I lived in Kreed’s Keep, and I haven’t been back in ten years or more. It’s very likely that some people I knew died during the attack. I don’t really want to think about it, though. What about you?”
“People I knew died in Waterside. A good many, actually. But I
rarely traveled to Kreed’s Keep and can’t say that I know anyone who is from there—other than you.”
“I don’t believe I know where you hail from, Captain? Unless it is rude of me to ask—”
“I was born outside of Wayfield, but my father was a restless sort, so our family didn’t stay long in any one place.”
“What was your father’s profession?”
“Tinkerer, mostly. Worked as a blacksmith for a while, but he didn’t take to that. Neither did I.”
“Oh?”
“When it comes to an occupation, a lad my size usually has just three options. Blacksmith, guard, or soldier. I tried the first two. Neither really suited me. So I ended up in Laketon as a recruit.”
“Why Laketon?”
Bander shrugged. “It wasn’t Wayfield.”
As they rode, Bander marked the time. Etthar Calain had instructed them to look for an east/west road about an hour and a half south of the Steading. They were getting close. Fifteen minutes ago they hand passed a lone stand of trees, but other than those, the landscape was flat grasslands, a sea of brown stalks undulating in the gentle breeze.
Before long, they came to a dusty track that crossed the highway. Bander paused there.
“No welcoming sign,” Wegg said.
“No, but the time works out. I think this is it.”
“How far down this road? We don’t want them to see us.”
“I’m not sure, but there’s only one way to find out. If anyone asks we’re looking for Delfin Gulch.”
“What’s Delfin Gulch?”
“Nothing. I just made it up. But it’s as good as an explanation as any for why we’re on this road.”
The road east was much narrower than the highway, barely wide enough for a wagon, but it looked like it got a fair amount of traffic. They rode for about a mile and then they saw the fortress. It rose up to the southeast—blocky and dark with four towers. Light reflected off something at the base of the structure. Probably those memalin shards Etthar Calain spoke of.
“How far away do you think it is?” Wegg asked.
“A couple miles at least.” Bander stopped his horse.
“If we can see them, they can see us.”
That was true. There was no cover, even this far away from the fortress. Just the sea of grass for as far as they eye could see.
“What’s that?” Wegg pointed due east.
Another structure. Much smaller. It was a couple miles away as well.
“No idea,” Bander said. “Maybe a gatehouse or something. Let’s turn back.”
They returned to the highway. No one followed them.
Bander said, “We’ll go south and see if there is another road in.”
There wasn’t.
It would have been easy enough to ride through the prairie grass and get closer to the fortress, but they would be even more conspicuous. Instead, they rode back to the crossroads.
“West,” Bander said.
“Why west? We’re going away from it.”
“The road’s got to lead somewhere.”
It did. After about a half hour they came to a farm. Or a farm and a ranch to be exact. There was one large farmhouse, what looked like a bunkhouse, several barns and pens, grain storage, and various other smaller outbuildings.
Two men were in a cart in the closest field to the road. Bander wasn’t sure what they were doing. Maybe planting seeds. He didn’t really know much about farming.
“I’m going to go talk to them. Stay here,” he told Wegg.
Once the farmers saw Bander walking towards them, they stopped the cart.
“Hail!” Bander called, waving.
The farmers didn’t say anything.
When Bander got close enough to speak without shouting, he greeted the two men. One was older, maybe in his forties. The other was half that age. Both men had drawn faces and large foreheads. Father and son for sure.
“What do you want?” the father asked.
“We’re in need of a meal,” Bander said. “We’ve been on the road since before dawn. We can pay.”
“This isn’t an inn.”
“Of course it isn’t. But surely you can spare some bread. And I’m sure your cows produce some fine cheese.”
“I can’t help you. We’ve got to get back to work.”
“What about the other road? West? Is there a farmer down there who might be more interested in taking our coin?”
“No, there isn’t. And I wouldn’t go there if I was you.”
“Why not?”
“The lord doesn’t take kindly to trespassers. Neither do we. So it’s best that you leave now. You’re two hours from the Steading. All kinds of inns there.”
“You sure you won’t reconsider?”
“Damned sure. Now get off my land.”
Bander turned and left the farmers and trudged across the field back to Wegg.
“Why are farmers always so grumpy?”
“They don’t sleep much,” Wegg said.
“Maybe. Anyway, he warned me away from the fortress.” Bander took another long look around. He didn’t see any other farm workers, but that didn’t mean anything. It was a big place and there was a good chance a dozen men were working on the other side of the complex.
They returned to the crossroads and Bander became hungry for real. There were no trees to sit under and eat, so they rode back north for a half hour and then cut off the highway and followed a narrow creek for a half mile or so. There they stopped to rest and let the horses drink. It was maybe two hours after noon.
“What are you thinking, Captain?” Wegg asked.
“I’m thinking that I want to get out of the sun.”
“Agreed.”
There wasn’t anything larger than some scrubby bushes near the creek. The best Bander could do was drape his saddle blanket between some bushes and lie beneath it. Wegg did the same.
“I gather we are waiting,” Wegg said.
“Yes. I’m going to sleep. No sense in trying to sneak up to anything in this kind of daylight.”
Bander fell asleep while trying to mentally triangulate their location in relation to Gredarl Kar’s fortress and determine whether or not someone perched in one of the towers could see them. He didn’t dream.
When he woke up, it was late in the day. It was colder and it felt like a storm was blowing in.
Wegg was sitting on a rock nearby. “Feel better?”
“The same. Did you sleep at all?”
“Someone needed to keep watch.”
After checking on the horses, Bander looked out to the south. He couldn’t see the fortress, but he wasn’t sure that they couldn’t see him. Especially if they had a spyglass.
The sky was darkening and the wind was blowing in from the west, causing the grass to wave like a flag. Bander wondered if there would be lightning. This was the last place he wanted to be in a lightning storm.
Wegg had been thinking the same thing.
“Are we going to be safe out here?”
“We’ll see.”
They unhitched the horses and led them along the creek which ran roughly east. If Bander’s memory served him, they were moving parallel to the road that ran to the fortress. After about a quarter hour, Bander sighted a stand of trees a couple of miles to the northeast. That might be the only place to shelter if the storm hit. They still had a few hours before dark, so he decided to investigate the treed area. After about a half mile they ran into a footpath that led directly towards the grove.
The storm was moving closer and the wind picked up. Bander could see the trees swaying as they moved closer. The largest appeared to be about 100 feet tall, with silvery-white bark.
“What kind of trees are those?” Bander asked.
“They look like popach with the bark like that, but I didn’t think they grew this far south.”
The path led into the grove, which looked like it covered an acre or two. Another creek—or maybe the same one—also wound its way thro
ugh the trees.
The wind whistled loudly through the trees and when Bander looked up, he saw the trees rock slowly as if they were dancing.
“I’m having second thoughts about this,” Wegg said.
“You’d rather be out on the prairie when the lightning hits?”
And then Bander spotted a good-sized cabin. It was made of stone and wood and had a thick wooden door and a chimney with smoke coming out of it.
“I wonder if whoever lives here is more hospitable than the farmers,” Wegg said.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
They knocked at the door and a few moments later it opened to reveal a stout man. He was completely bald but had a long golden beard which hung down to his belt.
“Pilgrims?” he asked in a deep voice.
Bander said, “No, sir. We’re travelers, seeking shelter from the storm. These trees are the only protected area around. Truth be told, we didn’t think anyone was living out here.”
“Come in, then. Your horses will be fine out there.”
Bander nodded his thanks and he and Wegg followed the man into the cabin. It was just a spacious single room with a large stone fireplace with a cauldron. The smell of stew wafted throughout. A long bench and a chair faced the fireplace. The man motioned for them to sit.
“My name is Bander and this is Wegg. Thank you for letting us come in from the storm.”
“I am Darrick and as long as you are not Gredarl Kar’s men, you are welcome here.”
“We are most certainly not,” Bander said. “But what quarrel do you have with the man?”
“At various times he has threatened to cut down Staiger’s Grove. Or even burn it. One day he may just do just that.”
Wegg asked, “Isn’t this your land, Darrick?”
"It's a bit complicated, I fear. This land has been in our family for generations. My great, great grandfather planted the grove. And it bears his name. I grew up here but moved away when I was a young man. My father died six winters ago and the cabin was vacant for a year. When I heard about his death, I returned."
